Chasing Ghosts
by veiledndarkness
Summary: Not all those who wander are lost. Warning: Slash, Crossover with Max Payne
1. Chapter 1

Title: Chasing Ghosts

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

New York wasn't what Jack had expected.

When he'd stood in front of the bus depot, swaying with the crowds of people milling about, he'd found the view before him to be disappointing. Gray. Everything was gray. The sky, the puffy clouds that sagged through the skyline, they were dark. Even the snow under his boots seemed dingy and dirty.

He exhaled a slow breath, verging on a sigh. "New York, New York…" he muttered as he finally merged with the people exiting the station. Maybe Sinatra had had high hopes for the city, but then again, maybe he hadn't known how the city would look when covered with a coat of gray.

Jack lit a cigarette as he walked, slushy snow dampening the edges of his worn boots. He shouldered his duffle bag with one arm, clutching his guitar case close to his body, watching the seemingly endless mass of people with him on the sidewalk march along. With Thanksgiving approaching, he figured there should still be some cheer somewhere.

Guess not.

He wandered aimlessly, winding his way through the streets. Like any other tourist he craned his neck, staring up at the maze of skyscrapers that lined the streets. Each one seemed to stretch higher than the previous, stretching to the snowflakes that were falling now.

Half a pack of cigarettes later, Jack found refuge from the snow in an old diner, one that was tucked in a corner, somewhere in the vicinity of East Harlem. He scuffed the snow off his boots, shaking the excess from his hair. At least the diner was warm, he mused, looking at the attempts at holiday cheer, the hints that December was on its way. He felt a pang echo through him, a phantom scent of gingerbread tickling his nose for a brief moment, teasing.

He slid into a booth as the waitress seated him, nodding at the offer of coffee. His blood felt ice cold. The duct tape on the booth seats, the chalkboard on the wall, the tired old men seated along the counter…Jack's lips twitched in mild amusement. He'd been in places like these far too many times. Another pang echoed and his attempts at a smile faded. Bobby had preferred diners like these.

X

Halfway through his meal of pancakes and somewhere between his second and third cup of coffee, Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He paused mid-chew, his long, lean body completely alert. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see a blur, a shape to his right. He gripped his fork and swallowed the mouthful of pancakes, casually turning his head to follow his line of vision.

He hated being stared at, always had.

The blur sharpened into an outline of a man, one dressed in dark colors, his hands and face the only thing to contrast him, his brown hair cropped closely to his head. He sat across from Jack, a steaming coffee mug clasped in his hands. He stared intently at Jack, _staring_ at him like he was committing some offense simply by sitting there.

Cop. Jack's chin lifted ever so slightly. He could practically smell the 'cop' vibe coming off him. Living with his brothers had taught him nearly everything he ever needed to know about making someone for a cop. He didn't relax the grip on his fork. Didn't trust cops, not now, not back when he'd needed one the most as a kid.

He raised his glance to match the one aimed at him, daring the man silently to find some excuse to do his thing, to make some bullshit reason as to why he was being eyed like a dangerous offender.

Then, to Jack's stunned surprise, the man moved off his chair and slid into Jack's booth, sitting opposite him. He still stared, but now the look seemed less menacing, less likely to result with Jack in handcuffs and a bloody lip. And Christ, did he ever look like…

_'don't think about him_'

Jack lowered his hand to the tabletop, confusion marring his face.

"Those pancakes any good?"

He blinked, unnerved completely. "Huh?"

The man nodded to the plate of food. Jack looked down, inwardly cursing his sudden lack of language. He stared at his half eaten food, then at the man. "Yeah…"

"Never tried them here, myself," the man looked up, his gaze landing on the chalkboard above Jack's head.

Jack rested his fork on his plate warily. He could hear the tinge of accent to his voice, one that reminded him of Bobby. He blinked, tucking the flicker of pain back expertly.

_'don't think of him…'_

"They're not homemade," he offered, shrugging his shoulders.

The man's dark brown eyes gleamed for a second. Jack thought it might have been amusement in them. "Yeah," he nodded. He drank from his coffee mug, his gaze returning to Jack's.

"You're not from around here."

Jack shrugged again. He pushed his fork around on the plate, dragging it through the syrup.

"Are you on vacation or just passing through?"

Anger sparked through Jack. He clenched his jaw. "Does it matter, _Officer?"_

The man inclined his head a little, offering a wan smile. "Detective, actually," he murmured.

"Well, in that case," Jack shoved his plate forward," Detective, it's none of your goddamned business."

The man merely sipped his coffee. "I'm thinking you're from a big city. You've got that look about you. I'm thinking inner city maybe. "

Jack gritted his teeth. 'Fucking cops,' he swore silently. "Look, let's cut the shit right now, ok?" he forced attitude into his voice. "I'm just passin' through. I'm not going to do anything, I'm not a troublemaker, and I don't have a gun on me. There anything else you need to ask?"

"Is that all?" he set his coffee mug down. "Settle down, kid, I'm not looking to arrest you."

Jack snorted. He grabbed his plate back and took one big angry bite out of his pancakes. "Heard that before," he snapped.

"So in other words, I run you, I'm gonna find a history?"

"Do whatever you want, man, I don't give a shit but do you mind if I finish this first?"

"By all means," the man sat back in his seat. He watched Jack eat, falling back into silence.

Jack polished off the rest of his food and drained his coffee cup. He pulled his old wallet out and, feeling the heavy weight of the detective's eyes, rifled through the few bills he had left. He took out a ten and dropped it on the table, next to his plate.

"You make it a habit to stare at people while they eat?"

The man shrugged at him. Jack huffed and gathered up his duffle bag. "You're an ass, you know that?"

"So I've been told more than once over the years, kid."

Jack stared back at him, irritated. God, he was just like…He exhaled heavily. "I bet you have." He shouldered his bag once more. "Thanks for the interrogation an' all but I gotta be on my way."

The man said nothing, watching him leave the diner, cradling his guitar case closely to his side. Jack winced as he stepped back into the cold air, the tips of his ears burning in the frigid wind. He rubbed his hands together, wishing like hell that he'd remembered to bring his gloves when he'd left in a blaze of glory.

He heard the door close behind him and knew, he _knew_ it was him, standing on the step behind him, that silent stare drilling into his back. Jack turned his head and yeah, of course he was right.

"What?"

"Where're you heading?"

X

When he looked back over things, Jack wasn't quite sure how he ended up following the nearly mute detective back to his apartment. He trudged behind him, hating the gritty, slushy snow, hating the gray pallor over everything.

And wasn't he deliberately doing this? Doing everything that Angel would have scolded him for? That Jerry would have fretted over? Jack scowled at the floor of the hallway, watching the melting snow trickle from his boots. He closed his eyes and turned to the side, grieving anew.

"You comin' in?"

"Considering I don't even know your name, that doesn't seem too wise."

The man nodded a little. "Smart enough. Name's Max Payne. And you'd be?"

He hesitated. "Jack Mercer." It was with some relief to see no recognition in the detective's eyes, to know that even the name Mercer didn't reach everywhere, though some days it had felt like it.

"Well, now we're acquainted." He held the door open for Jack.

A waft of warm air floated out teasingly. Jack nodded and stepped over the threshold, tugging at his gray and black scarf self consciously. Max closed the door firmly; doing up the three sets of locks, ignoring the way Jack flinched at the sound. He tugged at his long black coat off and tossed it on the coat stand that was propped in one corner of the hallway.

Jack undid his scarf, shivering slightly as he did so. There were boxes stacked to one side of the hall, moving boxes, some still sealed. Reluctantly, he took his coat off and draped it on the coat rack as well. "You uh…you just move in?"

"No."

Huh. Jack glanced up the hall, watching Max disappear into a room off to one side. The apartment was dim, a few lights here and there that illuminated small circles of light. Jack squinted. He could see more boxes further down, close to what he guessed was the bedroom.

The man returned a moment later. He stood in the doorway, looking at Jack. "I ain't gonna bite you, kid."

"I don't make it a habit to go home with guys I don't know."

Max raised one eyebrow slightly, as if to say he didn't buy that at all. "But you got nowhere to go, no plans and by the looks of it, no money."

Jack bristled at that. "I don't need a plan."

Max made a sound in his throat, whether it was approval or disapproval, Jack wasn't sure. "Uh huh," he nodded his head to the side. "Grand tour is this, kitchen behind me, living room to your right, bedroom down the hall, bathroom to the left of it."

He badly wanted to ask why all the boxes were scattered everywhere, but there was something in Max's eyes, something that made his stomach churn uneasily, something that told him that the answer wouldn't be a good one.

Jack slid his boots off, leaving them by his coat. The apartment had enough warmth to chase away his chill, but he still felt the cold in his bones. He walked the length of the hallway, feeling the hardwood floor creak under his feet. Max watched him, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

"Is this the part where you try an' convince me that I'm safe with you?" Jack crossed his arms over his abdomen, his nerves jangling uncomfortably. He kept expecting the sudden rush, the sudden assault. It didn't matter that this man was shorter than him by a few inches. Size had little factor in how dangerous a man could be, he knew.

"I'm not so hard up that I'd take it by force."

And maybe it was because he looked so much like Bobby, like Bobby would if he'd cut his hair, if he'd strap a badge on and carry his guns legally; Jack felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. He swallowed over the sudden lump in his throat. "Good to know," he muttered.

"Couch folds out into a bed." Max pointed to the living room, Jack following behind him slowly. "Stay as long as you want. I don't want to find you in the gutter 'cause you trusted the wrong person."

"That's it?" Jack rubbed his elbows, his breath catching as he watched Max watch him. "That's all you want?"

Max shook his head. "Don't sell yourself short, Jack." He turned and left the room, leaving Jack standing in front of the couch.

X

It was funny, Jack thought, about how two people could stay in an apartment and not speak to each other, without a tinge of anger.

Watching the snow fall outside, he sat on one of Max's chairs, a hard back, vaguely uncomfortable one, one knee pulled up to his chest. He listened to the sound of his own breathing, a cup of now cold coffee on the ledge beside him.

Max worked long hours, Jack learned quickly. He left the apartment at seven thirty each morning and didn't return until well past seven each night. Rarely was he home before that, which meant that Jack was on his own almost all the time. And to be honest, Max was so damned quiet during the times that he was home, Jack couldn't be sure that he wasn't a ghost.

He didn't seem to expect much of anything from Jack. He didn't expect him to cook, to clean, to talk. Jack sighed softly and rested his head on his knee, rubbing at his forehead. The snow was falling steadily, the sky an off white for once, instead of a murky gray shade.

Jack often went out for hours, exploring the neighbourhood the way he would in any of the various cities he'd been in before. He'd make his way around on the subways and buses, explore any museums that offered free days, lurk in pubs and bars, and sometimes drag his guitar to one of them and play for the hell of it. He felt pangs of regret for the days of when he'd traveled with his band, staying in dive motels and playing in worse bars. If Max had noticed his guitar case, he'd made no mention of it.

Nor was Max forthcoming about anything he did since the day he'd met Jack and told him that he was a detective. Jack supposed he could have gone through any of the numerous boxes that littered the dark apartment to look for clues but the very idea made him feel guilty. He picked up his coffee mug and winced at the taste of the stone cold liquid.

Muttering in disgust, he slipped off the chair, stretching the kinks out of his back as he stood. He carried the mug to the kitchen and rinsed it out in the sink. Blue-gray light trickled into the room, casting shadows across the black and white tiled floor.

In truth, he often wondered exactly why Max had all but dragged him to his apartment. He seemed to want nothing from him, and that in itself was making him feel off. It was strange to essentially live with someone who had no interest in explaining why he'd brought you there. If he wanted him in the bedroom, he'd shown no inclination so far.

Jack chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating that. Wild horses wouldn't drag it out of him but he couldn't deny the base attraction he felt to Max. There was the resemblance to _him_ of course. They could have been twins for how much they looked the same and that was hard enough on Jack's nerves.

If anything it made him feel worse.

Jack sighed again, hearing it echo around the empty kitchen. He leaned against the counter, his gaze wandering around the barren space. Max kept very little furniture and even less to fill the various shelving that lined the space opposite him. There was one chair that he avoided without being sure why. It was a simple small white chair against the wall, a floral print to it that would have gone out of style twenty years before. It was the size that kept Jack's attention. It was small, much too small to comfortably seat any normal size man, let alone one with Jack's height or even Max's.

It looked like…like a lady's chair, one meant to be sat on amidst the flowers of a garden.

Jack debated another cup of coffee for a few minutes before discarding the idea. He'd had enough caffeine for one day. He opened and closed a few cupboards, taking note of the few food staples. Clearly, Max relied heavily on take-out, he thought, rolling his eyes.

On instinct, Jack wanted to offer to cook, to help out at least in some way or another. Being a free-loader was not something he was accustomed to. Drifting aimlessly from city to city, sure, but hanging around like a houseguest to a guy like Max Payne?

Jack closed the cupboard door sharply, annoyed with himself. After all, it wasn't bad here, not by a long shot. A bachelor's apartment, sure, and one filled with a cold silence, but it wasn't a shelter, or some alleyway or the backseat of a truck cab, he mused bitterly.

Enough…Jack left the kitchen, padding over to the living room. He grabbed his guitar case from where he'd tucked it, in the space between the couch and the wall. With the weight of his guitar in his hands, Jack felt some of the tension in his body melt away. He let his fingers drift over the strings, tracing them with his eyes closed.

He still preferred his old acoustic to any of the electric ones he'd played on stage.

Before long, Jack began to play, letting his fingers choose the songs, his lips moving to the lyrics in his head. He kept his eyes closed, singing along, louder now, letting everything he was holding back fall away.

He didn't hear the footsteps, didn't sense the other person standing in the doorway until he'd finished a song and felt the now familiar stare on him. Jack turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed. "Um…Sorry," he mumbled. "If you uh, don't want me playin' this in the apartment, it's cool."

"I'm not complaining."

True. Max looked intrigued actually. Jack glanced at the clock on the wall. "You're home early."

Max nodded. "Not much going on today." He tilted his head, speculation in those dark eyes. "I'm going out for a drink."

"Is that an offer?"

"Could be," Max shrugged, "You old enough to drink, Jack?"

Jack smirked at him. He'd been drinking since he was old enough for his first year of high school. "Sure."

Max met his smirk, his own lips almost lifting. That was another odd thing about the man. He rarely smiled or even grinned. "I just bet."

Jack tucked his guitar into the case, closing it carefully. "You look like a beer drinker to me."

"Good guess." Max watched him put the guitar case back into its spot. "I'm thinkin' you don't go for the weaker alcohol."

"Better guess." Jack slipped his coat and scarf on, toed his boots on as well. "Beer's fine to start, but Jack Daniels is where I end up."

X

Even men like Max had regular places to go, a favoured waterhole, a familiar pub or diner. The bartender nodded to him, murmuring a few words of greeting. Max leaned in, nodding to the offered beer. He took two bottles, carrying them to a table off to the side.

Jack sat down, rubbing his hands together under the scuffed table. "Does this city ever have another shade but gray?"

"Summer time," Max placed a bottle before Jack. He took a sip of his own beer, "And in the fall sometimes."

He found that hard to believe. Logically, he knew that the city must have a beauty of its own. He drained half the bottle in one long swallow. "Believe that when I see it."

"Stick around long enough, you might."

Jack felt the words stick in his throat, the protest that Christ only knew where he'd be by the summer time. He grimaced and set the bottle down, staring at the grain of the table.

"Look, Max, I…"

Max took a long pull of his beer. "You're a drifter. You don't stay anywhere too long and you're running from whatever or who ever put that sad look in your eyes."

There was nothing to protest about that. Jack swallowed again, the lump in his throat rock hard. "So?"

"I'm wondering why you're runnin' is all."

"That's none of your business. I thought I made that clear a week ago," Jack snapped.

Max gave him that level look, one that Jack was quickly growing to dislike. It made him feel like a petulant child. "Maybe not but I know there's something hurting inside of you."

Jack crossed his arms, fuming inwardly. "Stop analyzing me, you bastard."

"Hit close to the mark then?"

"Ok, let's turn that around." Jack sneered at him. "Someone or something hurt you, that's why you ran, right? That's why you never unpacked, cause that'll make it too real, right?"

Max's face closed off so fast, Jack felt the chill settle between them. He bit the inside of his cheek, wishing he could pull the words back.

Max's fingers gripped the bottle, his knuckles white. "Three years since those boxes came with me," he whispered finally. "It's real, doesn't make it any less real if I unpack."

Jack exhaled a long, slow breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

There was no answer, only a strained silence. Max finished his beer and Jack had the distinct feeling that it would take a hell of a lot of effort to get a man like Max to open up to him. He drank the last bit of beer in his bottle, aware of Max's eyes on him as he swallowed. Now he could feel it, feel the heat in Max's stare.

A shiver raced through him, making his skin prickle instantly. "I think we both need more booze to open up, huh?"

Max nodded abruptly, tearing his gaze away from Jack. He clenched his jaw for several seconds and then stood up. He went to the bartender only to return a moment later with a bottle of Jack Daniels in hand, two shot glasses in the other. He poured whiskey into each glass and pushed one across the table.

Jack caught his before it could spill. "Thanks." He drank it down, welcoming the slight burn.

Max grunted lowly and downed his glass in one smooth shot. He sat back down, licking a drop from his lips. Not another word was spoken until each of them had taken another shot. Max rested his fingers on his shot glass, tenting them.

"Where're you from?"

Jack fiddled with his own shot glass. "No clue originally," he admitted. "But the last place before I started…traveling was Detroit."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Originally…?"

"Foster kid." Jack held out his shot glass, false bravado fuelling him. "Don't remember my birth mom, if I even spent any time with her after she had me."

Max whistled softly. "Sorry, kid."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Doesn't matter," he wiggled the glass. "Fill 'er up, hm?"

Max did so, refilling his own as well. Jack downed it immediately; chasing the phantom memories back in the manner he'd done so for years now. "Doesn't matter," he said again. "Bad shit happens to lots of people. That's the cycle."

"I've seen that before," Max sipped his shot this time, savouring it. "Happens too damned often, I find."

"Whatever."

Jack glared into his empty glass. "Why'd you leave most of your shit in boxes if you moved in three years ago?"

"I don't care, that's why," Max's voice had a hint of a snarl to it and Jack blinked rapidly, swearing he could hear Bobby in that moment. "What's the point? It's not a home."

Home…Jack closed his eyes. He bit his tongue, tears stinging his eyes. "Haven't been home since she died," he mumbled.

Max's head snapped up, as though spooked. "What? What'd you say?'

Jack wiped a hand clumsily over his face. "Nothin'…" He stood up, his legs shaking. "I gotta get out of here."

"Jack…Jack, wait!" Max was up in a flash, grabbing his arm.

"Let go!" Jack spat at him. "Let the fuck go!"

Max leaned in, his grip tight on Jack's arm, his voice whisper quiet. "Listen to me, Jack, you hearing me? Calm down, alright? Take a breath, man."

Jack shuddered, feeling sick. Too much caffeine and alcohol on a nearly empty stomach, he shook, taking in a strangled breath. "Damn it…Damn it…"

Max kept his arm around Jack, half dragging, half pushing him towards the entrance of the bar. Jack stumbled along, teetering on the edge of a full freak out, his mind two steps behind. He reached blindly for the door handle and pushed forward, wrenching free of Max's surprisingly strong grip.

He dropped to his knees in the slushy snow, panting for air, and still heard her voice, that soft, gentle voice that he missed so fucking much, overlapping with the increasingly worried sounds that were coming from the man behind him.

_Jackie…_

"God, stop it," he hissed, clamping his hands over his ears. "Fuck, please stop…"

Max stared down at him, completely bewildered. "Jack, c'mon kid, you're gonna freeze to death out here like this." He rested a cautious hand to Jack's shoulder. "Hey..."

"She said I was safe there." Jack wiped at his face, sniffling.

"Who did?"

"Never mind," Jack wiped over his eyes one last time. He stood up shakily, regretting the three shots already. "It's not important any more."

"C'mon, I'll take you back to my place." Max kept his hand on Jack's shoulder until he was sure that he was standing safely.

X

Max hustled Jack back to his apartment, his forehead deeply creased with concern. Jack stayed silent, not wanting to explain, not wanting to let the words climb out and tell Max everything. For the first time in what felt like years, Jack wanted to tell someone everything, the whole damned truth, the reason why he'd fled the only place that had ever felt like home.

He sat on the couch, shivering in the darkened room. Faint sounds echoed from the kitchen, the sound of a kettle filling, and Max's footsteps on the creaky floorboards. A moment later, a heavy blanket was draped around Jack's back and shoulders. It smelled faintly spicy. He hunched in a bit and tugged the edges of the fabric closer to his body.

"Thanks."

"Yeah…Jack, you uh, you gonna be ok?"

Jack rubbed his thumb over the wet patch that soaked one jean-clad knee. "Mhm," he rubbed harder, his hair flopping untidily forward to cover part of his forehead. "Sorry about all that. Too much booze too quick, I guess."

Max sat down on one of the uncomfortable looking chairs near Jack. He leaned forward, his hands clasped. "I don't have a lot of experience in dealing with…things like this. So if there's someone I should be calling, or something you need, say so."

"No. There's no one to call. I'm gonna be fine, Max."

"Wish I could believe that."

"What difference does it make? They couldn't help even if I wanted you to call them."

"Jack…" Max sighed.

Jack shook his head. "No. I've been lounging around here for a week now, Thanksgiving's comin' up, an' I'm sure you got family and all that shit, so I'm gonna leave tomorrow."

"There's no one to celebrate with."

Jack glanced at him and felt his breath catch at the bleakness to Max's face. "No one at all? No family? Friends?"

"No."

"Shit…" Jack nodded a little. "I'm sorry, man."

Max stood up, the blast of the kettle startling them both. "It's fine."

Jack tucked his long legs underneath himself, wrapping the blanket tighter. He worried at his lip with his teeth, trying to keep them from clacking together. He lifted his head only when Max returned, pushing a large mug at him. He clasped the mug, feeling the heat seeping into his fingers.

"You were married, huh?"

Max stilled. Jack sipped the hot coffee, noting the heavy hand of milk added to the liquid. "You still got that pale line on your finger," he added when no sound emerged from Max. "That tan line gives a divorced guy away, every time."

"I'm not divorced," Max ground out. "She's…she's gone."

Jack felt sick. "Oh Jesus…"

"Three years ago."

And that would explain why he hadn't unpacked. Jack gripped the mug, searching for the right thing to say. "Sorry I pushed."

Max sat down stiffly. "She was murdered, her and our baby."

There was nothing he could say. Jack stared into his mug, letting the pain in Max's voice wash over him. "I'm sorry…"

"They never caught her killer." Max fell silent again, his fingers locked over each over. "I transferred to the Cold Cases Unit, thought maybe I could dig up something, fucking anything to give me an idea as to who…or why. I couldn't let it go, still haven't."

Now that reminded him of his brothers. For half a second, he could feel the snow pelting him, the wind whipping his hair into his eyes as he watched Bobby and Angel fire their guns into two men. He shuddered, his heartbeat roaring in his ears.

"Not easy to let go," he murmured. "They wanted vengeance, they got it."

"Who?"

"My…my brothers," Jack drank deep from his coffee, fortifying himself. He smiled sadly. "My brothers an' me, we were all foster kids. Our mom, Evelyn, she adopted us all cause no one else would. No one wanted us, we were too much trouble."

"Bobby was the worst. People were scared of him, and lots still are." Jack ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back from his face. "Our mother…she was murdered last year, right before Thanksgiving."

Max made a sound; one that Jack knew meant more than sadness. He nodded, rubbing his thumb over his fingers. "And this Bobby of yours, he wanted vengeance?"

Jack flinched at Max's words. "He, yeah, yeah he did. She was the first person to ever give a shit about him, treated him like he was worth it, y'know? She was our Ma, and they took her away. Guys like Bobby; they can't let shit like that go. And…and I think you're not far from that, Max."

"You don't know me like you think you do, kid."

"I think I do. I've known men like you before."

"Just because you've been here for a week doesn't mean you know shit."

"I might if you'd speak more than five words to me! This is the most you've said to me since the day you fucking interrogated me in that diner!" Jack sat upright, his cheeks flushed. He missed the look in Max's eyes, the way his throat bobbed.

"Fuck you and your goddamned issues. You drag me here and God knows why I agreed to follow you. I'm not some scared little kid, I'm not someone who needs to be saved, I'm not the kid you lost, and I'm sure as fuck not a replacement for your dead wife! What straight man brings home a guy like me if he's not lyin' to himself?"

Max's lips thinned to a faint line, his eyes flashing angrily. "Who said I wanted a replacement? And if I did, it wouldn't be some mouthy shit like you."

Jack slammed the mug down on the coffee table, droplets of the liquid splashing on his hand. "I don't need this bullshit! If I did, I would have stayed home and let him fuck me on the nights when he didn't feel like pretending any more!" he raged, horror flooding in when he heard the words leave his mouth.

"I…" Jack stood up, his stomach lurching violently. "Shit…"

"Jack."

He shook his head and bolted for the bathroom, sliding to his knees in front of the toilet in time to lose his battle with nausea. And as he retched, unwanted tears slipped down his cheeks.

When it was over, he rested his head on one arm, fumbling for the flusher with his other hand. A cool washcloth moved over his damp forehead, wiping away the film of sweat on his skin, wiping away the hot tears that still stubbornly fell. After several long minutes, Jack stood up, avoiding eye contact with the man beside him. He rinsed his mouth out, chasing the foul taste away.

Max looked as though he wanted to say something. Jack shook his head, brushing past him. He could almost hear the unspoken apology from him, and that would have been more than he could take right then. Jack opened the pullout bed and curled up on it, wrapped in the heavy blanket.

He cursed everything then in his head. He cursed Bobby, cursed his own crushing loneliness, his big mouth and Evelyn for leaving him. And as he did so, Max stood in the doorway, watching him pretend to sleep.

X


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Chasing Ghosts 2/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

If Jack had thought the silence was awkward before the…well, whatever the fuck that had been the other night, the silence in the apartment now was slowly choking him. Their fight, debate, whatever you could slap a label to it, had sunk a huge stone in their comfort level with each other. And yet…Jack couldn't bring himself to leave.

Had Jack gotten into a fight anywhere else, he would have left immediately. He would have grabbed his shit and been gone before the other person could have finished yelling. No one, _no one_ was ever going to hurt him like this ever again, he'd sworn to himself when he'd left Evelyn's house the year prior.

And here he was, curled up in the heavy blanket that Max had draped around him on that night, trying to sort out his fucked up emotions. Another empty coffee mug sat beside him, the television flickering across from him, the volume so low it was barely audible. Jack stared at nothing, his eyes red-rimmed and shadowed from lack of sleep.

He rubbed his knee absently, picking at the rip across his jeans. He supposed that he must've looked a lot like a sullen kid right then. Max hadn't said a goddamned thing to him since they'd argued. Jack closed his eyes briefly, wincing at the memory.

He'd screamed at him, raged about his feelings, for fuck's sake, his anger at Bobby, which had had no place in how he felt about Max, and then thrown up. He sighed heavily; exceedingly angry at the way he'd behaved.

Ma would have been so disappointed, he mused.

But Max hadn't flipped out. He hadn't thrown Jack out or slapped him around. He'd wet a washcloth and wiped Jack's face in that way that felt perfect after you'd been sick, gently, kindly. That wasn't what you did when someone screamed and ranted at you. Hell, even Bobby would have been tempted to belt him one for that.

Jack smiled sadly. Not that Bobby would actually strike him in anger, he knew. The urge would be there though and he'd have seen it in Bobby's dark eyes. Bobby…God, he missed him.

Nor would Bobby would chase him this time. Not anymore. Jack knuckled at his eyes, rubbing at the swollen lids. He pushed the blanket back and emerged from his cocoon on the pull-out bed, his legs stiff. He shuffled his way to the kitchen on unstable feet, shivering a little in the cool evening air.

As he made more coffee, not that he needed more of that in his system, he saw boxes off to the side, several of them stacked against the wall closest to the kitchen. He shook his head. Looking inside wouldn't be good, he reasoned. It would be snooping and more than likely, that would be the reason for Max dumping his ass into the snowy gutter, if not for flipping his shit while drunk.

Temptation was a bitch.

Jack nudged the box with his spoon, noting that the flap to the highest box was slightly ajar. He bit down on his knuckle and nudged it again before he lost his nerve. The flap fell back easily, inviting him in.

"Damn it," he muttered and gave in, moving closer to see inside.

Photos, stacks of them, some loose, some bound in albums, some in frames. Jack poured through them, forgetting about his coffee, his fascination with the man he hardly knew growing. He sifted through the box, paging through each album as though it was made of the most breakable glass.

Pictures of Max, pictures of him smiling, of him in his cop's uniform, of him as a young boy, and if Jack hadn't seen the resemblance before, fuck, could he ever see it now. Max looked just like Bobby, albeit with shorter hair, even during his teen years. He chuffed out a breath, amused. Even the way their eyebrows pointed upwards, slightly devilish, the way their eyes crinkled when they smiled.

Jack's throat ached. He paged through the wedding album, looking at the photos of Max and his smiling wife, the way he looked so damned carefree and _happy_. More photos, his pregnant wife, his hand so proudly resting on her rounded stomach, the look in her eyes as she smiled at him.

He envied this woman, for having known Max before someone stole the look of happiness from him, for having seen the softer side that no one ever would again, yeah, envy and a tinge of jealousy too, if he was honest.

The photos of the baby filled several albums. The baby looked like Max.

Jack put that album down, his chest hitching. God…He couldn't even imagine the level of grief. Losing Evelyn had wounded him in a way he hadn't thought possible. He replaced everything hurriedly, pushing the box back into place. The pictures hurt, seeing what Max had lost, that hurt.

The sound of a key in the door made him jump with a guilty start. Jack snagged the coffee mug and stirred it, putting his best look of nonchalance on his face. He was sipping it, and trying not to wince from how lukewarm it had become, when Max entered the kitchen, silent as always. Jack's heart pounded a nervous tattoo against his ribcage, certain that Max would be able to tell immediately that his memories had been disturbed.

Max looked him over, his face so blank and empty that Jack winced inwardly. Jack swallowed, trying to bring some words forward, something to break the ice. He licked his dry lips, a sound catching in his throat.

"I…H-Hey…"

Max nodded at him. "It occurred to me today that I don't have much food here."

Jack gave him a small shrug. "I don't expect you to feed me." On the inside he was rejoicing for even the smallest effort from Max.

"You're a guest, Jack. And you don't eat enough to keep a bird alive."

"I eat, I just…look, like you said I don't have a lot of cash and I'm used to gettin' by on less."

Max looked past him, his gaze falling on the box behind Jack.

Jack held his breath, panicking a touch. "Max, honest, I'm fine. I'm uh…I'll figure somethin' out, ok?"

"Get your coat. Wind chill's pickin' up tonight."

Jack sighed. He knew when arguing was pointless. He gulped down his coffee and followed behind Max obediently, putting his boots and coat on. He wrapped the scarf tightly around his neck and shoulders, already dreading the freezing temperatures.

"You'd think I'd be used to fuckin' freezing," he mumbled. "Detroit's no picnic in January."

Max dug in the closet closest to the front door. He emerged a second later, the lightest touch of amusement to his eyes. "I wondered about that. Maybe New York snow is different, huh?"

He tossed something at Jack. "Here, put these on."

Jack looked down, catching the object before it hit his chest. Gloves…He touched the tip of them, a sound caught in his throat again. A warm surge built inside and he had to blink rapidly to hold back the prickle of tears. They were thick, heavy gloves, well worn but still in good condition.

"Max…" he looked up. "Thanks."

A grunt was his response. Max tugged his coat on, foregoing a scarf in favour of one of his turtleneck black sweaters. He seemed to have dozens of those. Jack slid the gloves on, pleased by how well they fit. He wriggled his fingers, testing out the material. Perfect.

X

Max moved up and down each aisle of the grocery store on autopilot. He selected items here and there, the food staples, as Evelyn would have called them. Jack walked at his side, understanding that his help really wasn't _needed_ as much as Max was trying to smooth over their fight.

And really, that itself made Jack feel calmer. He'd never been the type to hold grudges.

He dawdled by the frozen turkeys in the freezer rows, his gloved hand trailing over the biggest ones, unaware of the wistful smile on his face. He could hear Angel and Jerry tussling behind him, hear Bobby's smartass commentary narrating their play fighting, smell the gravy warming, feel the heat of the oven as he basted the turkey…

"Jack?"

He blinked and turned, his eyes still lost in memory for a moment. "Huh?"

Max nodded to the frozen birds. "Pick one."

"Pick…yeah?"

"Go on. Whatever size we need, it doesn't matter."

Jack grinned stupidly down at the one his hand was on. No, no, much too big for the two of them. He lifted a few of the larger ones out of the way, spotting a more realistic sized one underneath. "This one," he said, placing it in the cart, "Big enough for leftovers, but not to the point of havin' turkey sandwiches till Christmas."

"I hope you know how to cook, kid."

"Oh yeah," Jack nodded, his mood lifted by such a simple gesture. Well, that and the gloves. "Yeah absolutely, I do know. I was gonna offer before, an' y'know, make something but I didn't want to assume anything."

Max rested his hands on the handle of the cart. Though his face was still mostly blank, there were definitely signs of amusement in his eyes. "Alright, so get whatever shit you need for cooking a turkey."

Jack tried to ignore the little thrill running through him. Not only was Max making an effort at conversation, he was willing to let Jack actually i_do_/i something in the apartment. And hell yes, he could cook. Out of all of them, Jack had been the only one interested in the process of creating food in a kitchen, whereas his brothers had been more interested in the end result of what was made in said kitchen.

He'd spent many an hour with Evelyn, learning everything she thought he should know.

And if that made him a queer little fairy in his brothers' eyes, so be it.

By the time they hit the checkout counter, the cart was nearly full. Jack mumbled to himself, checking over the cart as Max unloaded it onto the conveyor belt. "You do have oven mitts, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Max raised an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, that's a logical question. I've yet to see a pair in your kitchen. Or even see you make anythin' other than coffee."

Max blinked. "The oven mitts are in the drawer next to the one with the silverware."

"Then this'll be fine. Turkey just needs to defrost and I can get 'im ready in time for Thanksgiving."

He was excited, in truth. He hadn't had much opportunity for cooking since he'd left and he kind of missed it. It was soothing in a way; everything was done a certain way, a routine that he could rely on. He fidgeted with his new gloves, trying to play it cool and failing.

Max said nothing again until the bags of groceries were loaded into the car. "I don't cook," he admitted, turning the heat on and letting it blast out of the vents. "Apparently I have no ability in the kitchen and during my last attempt, burned the shit out a pot."

"So you survive on takeout?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I buy some quick stuff that doesn't require cooking, dinners, restaurants, and things like that."

"I figured."

Max drummed his fingers on the wheel, a move that sent a flicker through Jack. Bobby had a habit of drumming his fingers when he was thinking in the car. He looked over at him, watching his jaw clench, seeing the hesitation in his face.

"Jack, about the other night…"

Christ. Jack sighed under his breath. This was not the conversation he wanted to have so soon after Max's attempts to smooth things over. "I was drunk, ok? I…I drank too quick, hadn't eaten much an' before I knew it, I was freakin' over nothing. Normally, I can hold my liquor a hell of a lot better than that."

"No, not that, well, ok, part of that." Max looked vaguely uncomfortable. He rested one hand on the steering wheel. "You…indicated that your brother would…"

"Aw Jesus, cut out the cop talk an' say it. And before you go any further, Max, might I remind you that he's not my…my blood brother."

Max's jaw tightened for a moment. He nodded then, a look to his eyes that Jack hadn't seen before. What was that?

"I know that. It's…I get the feeling he's older than you, and you're you, and him using you like that, it's wrong, Jack."

"I'm me?" Jack dug in his coat pocket for his nearly empty pack of cigarettes. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You're attractive," Max muttered. "Some people would use that to their advantage. And someone, such as…him, they might not have any problem using you that way."

"Oh, back the fuck up!" Jack grabbed his lighter and lit his cigarette, his anger sparking way too fast for this conversation. He inhaled sharply, fighting to stay calm.

"First of all, you don't even know Bobby. Second, you don't know me like you think you do," he mocked, throwing Max's words from the other night back at him. "And third, most important of all, it's not like he _fucked_ me when I was a little boy, not like some other well meaning men!"

Silence filled the car, choking them both now. Jack smoked furiously through one cigarette, then another, his eyes brimming with bitter tears. "You don't know him at all," he whispered. "He loves me."

"You left though."

"So?"

Max said nothing and really, saying nothing was everything.

Jack swallowed and swallowed until he could speak without his voice breaking. "Don't bring him up again, Max."

"Fine…"

X

What he really wanted was for Max to at least try and meet him halfway on understanding the information he'd inadvertently revealed. Jack ran his tongue along his teeth as he ripped slices of bread into small squares. He toyed with his tongue stud and tried not to grind his teeth.

That was the problem with cops. They'd get some info and that was end of it. Like a dog with a damned chew bone, Jack thought, glum resignation settling in. No cop gave a fuck when he'd needed them to, but now, oh yes; let's share the nitty, gritty details of poor Jackie's childhood. Never mind that he'd rather forget it all. No, keep digging and pushing until Jack loses his shit.

He looked down and sighed at the slice of bread he'd mangled in one hand. He set the lumpy mess to one side and grabbed a new slice, tearing it up carefully. Half the bowl was full with ripped up pieces of bread, needed for the stuffing. Jack looked over his shoulder, Max sitting at the large wooden table behind him.

The sounds of a gun being taken apart and cleaned, now that was familiar. Max cleaned his guns as thoroughly as Bobby ever had. Jack tried not to stare but sometimes when he did, he could see the image of the two men blurring together. He bit back a sigh and finished tearing up the bread.

It had taken a lot of convincing on his part to keep Max from looking up the details of his earlier life. The look on his face made his promise seem a touch hollow. Jack gathered the needed spices and ingredients, mixing the stuffing without much attention. His mind wandered and he struggled not to dwell on the silent anger emitting from Max.

It was somewhat nice in that his anger meant he cared. Jack rinsed his hands off slowly, pondering that. Bobby's anger had been a front for a multitude of feelings that he'd never share, not even with Jack. He'd pretend that he wasn't hurting, but Jack had heard him crying in the bathroom, the night after Evelyn's funeral.

Jack paused in the middle of drying his hands. Some day he'd be able to think about her without wanting to fall apart, he vowed. He set the towel aside and leaned back against the counter. "Max?"

He looked up and Jack felt that little flicker again, warming his attraction to the man despite himself.

"You need any help?"

Both of Max's eyebrows lifted upwards. He couldn't have looked more surprised.

Jack grinned a little. "What?"

"You know how to clean guns?"

He nodded. "Uh huh, I learned years ago."

"I bet there's a story behind that." Max set a handgun down on the wooden table. "And I bet you were barely a teen when you learned."

"You should consider hittin' a casino with the way you bet."

"Smartass," Max muttered. "This mother of yours, did she know all that?"

"It's not like they did that on the fucking coffee table, Max. Of course we didn't, not in front of Ma. She'd have had a fit."

"At least one of you had common sense." Max shook his head. "Fine, show me."

Jack moved to the table, leaning on it. He eyed the gun and started the process. By the time he was done, he could see grudging respect in Max's eyes. He washed his hands again and smirked. "See?"

Max made a sound. Judging by the noise, Jack guessed that he was at least a little impressed. He put the items away, one by one and then stared at Jack. "How old are you?"

Jack's smirk faded away. "Why?'

"Why resist telling me?"

"And if I'm underage? You'd be in a shitload of trouble for getting me booze."

Max snorted. "Does it look like I care about things like that?"

"My birthday's in March," Jack tried, then sighed when Max only stared at him pointedly.

"Fine, fine, I'll be 21 next year!"

Max seemed to consider that. "You're so young still," he murmured.

"I'm not a child; I haven't been one for a long time, Max." Jack leaned in against the table and gave him a slow smile. "You don't need to handle me with kid gloves."

"Jack…" Max looked uneasy. He shifted on his chair, his gaze moving from Jack's.

"You won't hurt me."

At that, Max moved back, moving so quickly, Jack barely had time to blink. "Don't…"

Hurt, Jack turned away. His shoulders hunched, he went through the routine of preparing the roasting pan for the thawed bird.

"Jack…Jack, look at me."

"Don't you fucking apologize," Jack whispered harshly. "Don't you dare, Max."

He could hear movement, Max's quiet footsteps on the tiled floor. He could feel the wall of tension, the man hovering behind him uncertainly. Jack gripped the counter, willing his voice to be calm, to not let the rejection show.

"Jack," Max's hand ghosted near Jack's shoulder. "It's not…, I mean, I'm not…"

"Bullshit."

The hand settled on his shoulder, burning clear through his sweater, right to his skin. His heart pounded.

"You're afraid," Jack kept his voice to a whisper, afraid to startle him. "Scared to admit what you really want deep down. Seen it before, guys like you, they want to, but think they shouldn't."

"Stop it," Max tried to hiss but failed.

"Bet you've been thinkin' about what you wanna do to me since you saw me eating in that diner. I bet you've always wanted to, maybe fooled around some in high school or college with a guy, right?" Jack treaded on thin ice, the words escaping him, past his control. He kept his eyes on the counter, his heartbeat pounding in his ears the way it had the year before, only now he wasn't terrified.

"Shut up…" Max's hand moved down Jack's arm, gripping him just this side of too tight.

Jack licked his lips, aroused and a little afraid. "You're lyin' to yourself, Max, pretending you don't want it, but I know. I see it when you look at me."

Max yanked him around, face to face then. He was flushed, his eyes wide as he stared up at him. Jack pressed against him, and yeah, there was his proof, what Max couldn't hide. Jack moved his hand up and into Max's short hair, briefly mourning the fact that there wasn't enough to grip, before sliding down, cupping the back of his neck.

"No," Max whispered, even as he pulled Jack closer, looking at his mouth, his breath coming in fast gasps.

Jack closed the last inch of distance, his lips catching Max's.

Max resisted only a second longer, his eyes closing at the feel of Jack's mouth on his, the taste of his kiss burning through him. Jack made a soft sound in his throat, his hand moving down Max's neck, his hips lifting into contact with Max, drawing a startled noise from him.

"Jack," Max broke loose, panting, his lips tingling.

"Don't…" Jack reached for him, resting his forehead to Max's, his hands around Max's wrists, drawing him in again, taking another heated kiss and memorizing the way it felt.

Max gave in, unable to deny how much he wanted Jack's mouth on him. He shifted them, pushing Jack back against the counter, his hands sliding under the edge of Jack's sweater, feeling hot skin under his fingertips. Jack moaned lowly and tilted his head, ending the kiss only to move his mouth down to Max's neck, nipping and kissing his way across the sensitive skin.

"God!" Max yanked away from him, startled by the sensation. "Jack…Jack, we need to stop."

"Why?" Jack took small, quick breaths, his mouth kiss-swollen.

"It's not right," Max scrubbed a hand over his hair, his fingers shaking.

"Give me one good reason why." Jack lifted his chin, stung anew by the rejection in Max's face.

Max took a step back, struggling to regain his composure. "I'm too old for you, Jack. Way too old, in fact."

"Age never bothered me before," Jack snapped.

Max narrowed his eyes at him. "Just how old is this Bobby of yours?"

"He's old enough!" Jack pushed past him angrily. "What's the matter, Max? You jealous of him, is that it?"

"No."

"You're a shitty liar." Jack sneered at him. He wanted to pace the length of the kitchen, run from Max, punch him even. But more than that, fuck, did he ever want to kiss him again, kiss him and forget the harsh words.

Max moved quickly, blocking Jack from leaving the kitchen. "How much older is he? You're better off tellin' me, Jack. It won't take me long to dig him up, I promise you that. I say the word, I could have the info."

Jack fisted both his hands, his chest hitching. "What is it about you fucking cops? You think you can bully me, you fucker? You think you can intimidate me? You ain't got shit on a _real_ cop, buddy. You're a desk jockey, Max, that's all. Just another pathetic jockey who thinks he knows shit about the streets because he slaps a badge on every morning and struts around, thinking he's got power."

"Watch it, Jack," was Max's quiet warning. Only his narrowed eyes gave any sign of anger.

"Watch it or else, Max?" Jack laughed harshly. He pushed against Max, staring down at him. "Or what, huh? You gonna hit me? You gonna show me how wrong I am? I know you wanna belt me one good right about now. I can see it, I bet you can't decide if you wanna fuck me or hit me. Hard choice to make, Detective, ain't it?"

Max hissed then and shoved Jack forcefully back, knocking him into the wooden table. Jack smacked into the object, the small of his back crying out. He bit his lip to keep the cry that wanted to escape, in. Blood welled up on his lower lip, drawing Max's glazed eyes.

"C'mon, Max," Jack croaked, fighting back angry tears. "Is that all you got?"

"Just shut up!" Max yelled finally, pushing him back against the table harder. "Shut your mouth! Fuck, you don't know when to quit, do you?" He grabbed a fistful of Jack's hair, his mouth crashing down onto Jack's lips, kissing him roughly.

Jack groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping Max's shoulders. The man was stronger than he'd expected. He wanted to tear off Max's sweater, see his skin, see the differences between Bobby and him, and see if Max would feel the same.

Max muttered his name between the almost painful kisses, one hand gripping Jack's hair, the other moving down the long length of Jack's body greedily, touching and stroking anywhere he could reach. His hand drifted between Jack's open thighs and stilled. He licked the drop of blood from Jack's bottom lip, breathing heavily.

Jack could feel Max's arousal pressing down on his thigh. "Feels better when you give in, doesn't it?" he smirked, letting his tongue swipe over his own lip, flashing a hint of his tongue stud at Max.

"I don't…I don't need to take it by force," Max managed to say.

Jack almost pitied him, pitied the desire clear on Max's face. He knew how badly Max wanted to take him, he understood then that Max hadn't been with _anyone_ in the last three years. He lowered his eyes slowly. He relaxed his body and let his arms rest submissively at his sides. "Who said anything about force?" he murmured.

Max released the grip on Jack's hair, his face pale at the realization of how close he'd been to taking what he wanted with little concern for the young man beneath him. "Jack, Jesus, I'm sorry." He took a big step back from him.

Jack shifted and stood up. He turned to the side silently and looked down at the table. "Don't have to face me, if you don't want."

Max recoiled visibly from his words. "That's what you think I want?"

"Some guys prefer it," Jack turned completely, his back to Max then.

"He did that to you a lot then?"

Jack closed his eyes and swallowed, his throat tightening. "Don't…"

"He did." Max swore fluidly under his breath. "Goddamn it, Jack."

"Not…Not always," Jack rested his palms on the table, studying the grain of the wood. It looked as though it had been polished at one time or another. "Depended on things, is all."

"Jack…" Max moved to his side and cupped Jack's chin, feeling the fine tremors moving through his body. "Look at me."

Jack flinched at the calmly spoken words, hearing her as always.

_'Jackie…hey, look at me…you're safe now…'_

Concerned brown eyes stared at him, Max's fingers holding his chin in place. "I know I got rough, but that's not me, normally. And if, if I was going to…" he searched for the right word and came up empty. "Be with you like that, it wouldn't be a quick fuck in the dark. I'd want to see your face, Jack."

"I hate empty promises."

"I don't make empty promises." Max's thumb swiped over Jack's lip, a slightly ragged breath catching in his throat. "You make me feel a lot of things that I'm…I'm not sure I can face."

Jack felt his cheeks burn with shame. He flinched harder and pulled back from Max. "You look like him," he whispered, wanting to clasp a hand over his mouth. "You have no idea how much."

Max ran his fingers through Jack's hair, gently now. "That's why you came back here with me."

Though it wasn't a question, Jack nodded a little.

"You left after your mother died, because of him, because of your history together."

He nodded again, tears prickling under his eyelids.

Max smoothed Jack's hair back from his forehead, calming him slowly. "You fought and when the yelling stopped, you left."

"Yeah…" Jack felt a tear slip down his cheek. "He…I can't go back now. He won't…Nothin' changes, Max. Nothin' ever gets better."

Max said nothing to that. He stilled his hand and sighed aloud. "I'm sorry I shoved you, Jack. It wasn't right. I thought I was a better man than that." He let his hand drift to Jack's neck, stroking the smooth skin for a second.

Just as Jack was about to speak, to protest that Max wasn't some wild beast, he felt Max's hand move away from him completely. A pang of loss echoed through him. "Max, wait."

"I'll be back later, I got…I've got some stuff to do."

And without another word, Max left the kitchen. Jack fisted one hand, hitting the table with a dull thud. "Damn it," he whispered thickly, refusing to let one more tear fall.

X


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Chasing Ghosts 3/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

Rarely had Jack ever found solace or words of wisdom at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. That being said, he hadn't let that knowledge stop him from downing one while he moped over the dinner he'd prepared. The now empty bottle stood on the counter, silently mocking Jack who sat at the wooden table in the room, slumped miserably into his arms while he waited for Max to return.

He looked about the room through half lidded eyes, his alcohol soaked mind mulling over his acts of destruction. Self destruction, he added absently, his stomach sloshing from the sheer amount of whiskey burning his insides. He sighed, running his fingers along the fine grain of the table.

Max had been gone for hours. Hadn't slammed the door as he'd run from Jack and that kind of pissed him off. Jack scowled at the table. He could handle noisy anger, he was well experienced with loud and abrasive anger, but this silent anger bugged him. Slamming a door would have been more reassuring than Max closing it lightly behind him.

"What'd you expect, you stupid shit?" he muttered. "He's not Bobby, he's not _him_."

In the aftermath of Jack all but throwing himself at Max, and being rejected in the end, Jack had taken a moment to force his tears back. He was more ashamed than angry. How desperate, how pathetic, he sneered at himself, to practically beg a man who wasn't sure of his own sexuality to fuck him. It was disgraceful.

When he was sure he could move again, Jack had finished preparing the turkey with jerky movements, shoving the bird into the oven. His next act had been to raid Max's cupboards until he found a dusty bottle of booze. And as he cleaned up the kitchen, he drank steadily from the bottle, viciously berating himself the whole while.

The scent of roasted turkey slowly filled the air, the minute hand on the clock ticking away. Jack sat at the table still, a small bag of potatoes waiting by the sink to be washed and peeled. He couldn't seem to get up, to continue on the work needed for a proper Thanksgiving meal. His stomach burned, his face felt hot and the threat of tears loomed behind his eyelids.

As he waited to hear the sound of Max's key in the lock, Jack finally moved from the stool he'd been sitting on, sluggishly going through the motions. He turned the heat on under the pot of chopped potatoes, his gaze falling on the box of photos he'd rifled through before.

Jack hesitated a second before grabbing the box and bringing it back to the table with him. He poured over the photos again, going deeper into the box. Some of them were framed in silver frames, elegant frames that he had no doubt had been assembled by his beautiful wife. Jack ran his finger over a photo of Max holding his newborn, tracing the curve of his cheek.

For a moment, he entertained himself with trying to picture Bobby having kids. A snort escaped him. Somehow he couldn't see it. Though Bobby was good with kids, always had been, the truth was that Jack couldn't see him having the patience to keep his hothead temper under control. Or to have them with a woman who could handle his moods, his anger, or his…quirks.

Jack bit his lower lip, wincing a little at that thought. He couldn't imagine a woman that would be ok with her husband or boyfriend fucking his adopted brother on the down low when the need arose. Jack dropped the frame down on the table carefully. His stomach lurched, nausea rising for a moment.

Bobby…He looked at the wall, a hateful tear escaping and running down his cheek.

"Goddamn you," he whispered, scrubbing roughly at his cheek.

It would be easier if he could hate him.

Jack rested his head back down on his arms, listening once more for the sound of the key in the lock.

X

Hours later, the dinner ready to go, Jack looked up blearily to hear the door closing down the hall. He blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Max was in the kitchen within seconds, a large brown folder in one hand. His gaze sent a shiver through Jack, though he wasn't sure if it was arousal or fear.

Maybe both…

"Smells good," Max nodded his head in the direction of the oven.

"Uh…" Jack sat up a little. "Yeah, turkey's about done soon."

Max took a big step forward suddenly, his face devoid of emotion. He grabbed the picture frame from the table, gripping it until his knuckles creaked. "What the fuck are you doing with this?"

Jack swallowed, his throat sandpaper dry. "I…I…The box, I was lookin'…"

"Stay out of the boxes!" Max shouted suddenly, startling Jack.

"I-I'm sorry," Jack whispered, resisting the urge to cringe.

Max slammed the picture back into the box, shoving it off to the side. As he did so, the folder in his other hand fell onto the wood table. The cover flapped open, papers spilling out across the table, pictures, mug shots, and pages of information. Jack gaped at them, his eyes big.

"You…Max, you promised."

"I lied."

No shit on that. Jack picked up one sheet, Bobby's sneering face staring up at him from one of his many mug shots. His hand shook. "How could you?" he managed to choke out. "I fucking begged you not to."

Max shifted, pushing the box of photos back to where it belonged. He avoided meeting Jack's horrified eyes. "Turns out I had a good reason to be suspicious about the man you left Detroit over."

"He wasn't any of your business! My past, Bobby's past, it's none of your goddamned business, you bastard!" Jack slid off the stool, knocking it backwards.

"And all this right here?" Jack scooped up the papers, throwing them at Max's chest. "These don't tell you half the fucking story!"

"They tell me an awful lot." Max let the papers fall to the floor. "Your Bobby, he's got quite the reputation if you ask the right people. A real piece of work, he is. You and your brothers got up to some interesting shit last year, didn't you?"

Jack breathed in and out, his face flushed. "Don't you dare…You don't know anything."

"Did he put a gun in your hand? Did he make you kill any of them?" Max stood in front of Jack, cold anger in his eyes. "Funny how there's little info on you from last year. Was that the trade off, Jack? Keep his piece of ass on the side while he murdered people?"

Jack's throat worked, tears burning and blurring his eyes. He felt strangely sober despite the whiskey hours before. "Fuck you," he whispered.

Max grabbed the mug shot from the table, holding it up to Jack. "You see this?"

Jack hadn't lied. Max bore an uncanny resemblance to Bobby Mercer.

"You think you can fuck me and it'll be just like him, you little shit?"

Jack wobbled as he turned away, his anger fading away at the harsh words. He clasped his arms around his chest, shaking. "No…No…"

Max slapped the paper back down furiously. "I want the truth from you, Jack. Tell me why you're still here. Tell me if I need to start keeping an eye out for a jealous rage freak in my neighbourhood! Tell me if it's me you saw when you were pushin' me to kiss you!"

Jack said nothing. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around his chest, rocking a little.

"Damn it, Jack!" Max crossed the room to him, pulling the young man into his arms.

Jack leaned against him, burying his face in Max's neck, his breath coming in strangled gasps. "I can't help it. You look so much like him…I just wanted…"

Despite Max's anger, the anguish on Jack's face ate at him. He sighed heavily. "Jack…c'mon, calm down."

"You lied to me."

"I'm a cop. Did you really think I wouldn't check out your history? It'd be nice to know who's living on my couch, don't you think?"

Jack sniffed and shook his head, uncurling his arms. He held on to Max tentatively, keeping his face buried in Max's neck, breathing him in. "I guess…just didn't want you knowin' all the bad shit."

"You can't shock me," Max rubbed his hand down Jack's sweater in slow circles, trying to calm him. "I figured some real bad shit happened to you at one point."

"Too much bad shit over too many years," Jack rubbed his head back and forth along Max's neck. Aside from the shorter hair, Max was clean shaven as well. Jack missed the feeling of slightly prickly facial hair rubbing against him at times.

Max could feel the tension draining out of Jack slowly. "I'm not about to kick you out."

Jack shrugged one shoulder. "Don't bullshit me, Max."

"And I don't buy that nonchalant attitude either. Hey, look at me," he touched Jack's chin, watching the inevitable flinch that followed. He held Jack's gaze, rubbing his thumb along the curve of his chin. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Sure looked like it when you came in."

Max blew out a breath. "I didn't mean to lose it. I…I don't even go through those boxes, for a damn good reason."

"It hurts," Jack murmured.

"Yeah…yeah, it does." Max rested his hand in the small of Jack's back, feeling the heat seep through the worn fabric. "Some things never stop hurting."

X

Through a mostly silent dinner, Jack picked at his food morosely. Max polished off two helpings of the potatoes, the mixed vegetables, the perfectly roasted turkey with the stuffing, his gaze often lingering on Jack, as it usually did. Jack toyed with his fork; it would have felt strange to have Max look elsewhere.

He kind of liked knowing that Max was seemingly fascinated by him.

Max cleared his throat when he'd finished the last bite of stuffing. "You're too damn modest, Jack. You got a real knack for cooking."

Jack pushed a piece of turkey around on his plate. "Thanks."

"Look, I said I was sorry about earlier."

"I'm not angry." Jack stared down at his still mostly full plate. Yeah, all that whiskey had been a shitty idea.

"You've got a terrible poker face."

Jack smiled listlessly. "Angel told me that once."

"That'd be one of _them_, right?"

"Yeah," Jack mumbled, gritting his teeth. "He tried to teach me to play but he gave up when I couldn't keep from lettin' things show."

Max gave him a long thoughtful look. "Where'd your brothers go after the…incident?"

Jack felt a pulse of anger. Damn the cop in Max. "Jerry's still in Detroit, him an' his family live there. I don't know if Angel stayed or not. And I don't know where Bobby is."

"Would he follow you here?"

"Worried, Max?" Jack showed a mouthful of teeth, a parody of a smile.

"Don't be a smartass." Max's eyes were dark with annoyance. "Your brother leaves a path of destruction behind him a mile wide."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Please. People exaggerate."

"Where's there's smoke, there's fire."

"What are you really askin', Max?" Jack set his fork down and pushed his plate to the side, tired of pretending that he had any interest in eating his carefully prepared meal. "Are you worried that he might show up an' drag me out of here?"

"Who said I was worried?"

"No one, it's…well why else do you keep bringing him up? It's over, it's…" Jack's voice caught. "It's over with him, not that it ever really started. Let it go."

"You've been running away from him, you're chasing yourself, Jack."

Jack rubbed his hands over his face tiredly and up into his hair. "And your point is what? I don't need a plan, I just…exist, from day to day, I go where I want, I make my way around, sightseeing if you wanna call it. I'm not running anywhere, I'm _wandering_, ok?"

Max nodded slowly. "Wandering, ok I can see that. And what would you have done if I hadn't have found you in that diner?"

"Fucked the next stranger that wanted me," Jack snapped.

Max blinked. "I..." Words failed him and Jack swore mentally.

Smooth move.

"Fuck…sorry," he muttered, resting his head on one hand, his elbow on the table.

Max waited a beat. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want that from me?"

"Why're you lying to yourself? Pretending that you don't want it just as much as I do?"

A hint of color crept up Max's neck. "I don't, Jack, I was caught up…I apologized for pushing you against the table," he mumbled quietly.

There was a moment where Jack felt anger surge, the way it had when Bobby had refused him for the last time and he couldn't feel anything other than raw fury, anything but the all encompassing rage that he'd often seen in Bobby's face. He stood up, knocking the table aside as he did so, his hands shaking hard.

"I don't need you; I don't need your bullshit. I've had a life time of men like you, men like _him_ and I'm done, Max! Done! You hear me?" he shouted, hating the tears that welled up immediately in his eyes.

Max was up and on him before he could blink, gripping his arms with bruising strength. "I'm not letting you leave like this," he hissed.

Jack clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to smash his head into Max's. Instead, he leaned in, kissing him hard, biting at his bottom lip, his tongue smoothing the small hurt.

Max groaned into the kiss, his thumbs digging into Jack's arms.

"Give me a fucking reason to stay," Jack whispered hoarsely. He pushed against Max, holding him closer. "Why should I bother?"

Max fisted his hand in Jack's sweater, his lips demanding another kiss from him. "I want you here."

"Why?" Jack dragged his tongue over Max's lower lip, stealing a kiss and beaming on the inside when Max's throat worked rapidly. "Why Max?"

"Because…" Max struggled to think straight, his body pressed to Jack's, feeling Jack's heart beat pounding against his ribcage, "Because…I want you with me, here with me."

"Took you long enough," Jack murmured, kissing him again, gentler this time.

Max snagged his hand in Jack's messy hair, huffing a sound of annoyance into the kiss. Jack parted his lips, letting Max control the kisses. He was used to giving in. Max took a breath, looking up at him.

"I don't want you to regret this, Jack." He still held him tightly; ready to pull him to the bedroom.

Jack gave him a slight smile. "I won't." With that, he moved away from Max and walked to the bedroom he'd only glimpsed since he'd arrived. "I promise."

Max followed behind him, watching the way Jack moved, unable to look away as Jack pulled his sweater up and over his back, over his arms, falling to the foot of the bed. He swallowed dryly, no saliva left in his mouth at the sight of Jack, naked to the waist, his smooth skin inviting Max closer.

Jack turned to face him, a small smile quirking his lips. "C'mere."

"I…" Max tensed his jaw, his feet obeying the command before he realized it.

"I know," Jack nodded, his fingers nimbly undoing the belt around Max's hips. He heard the hitched breath and leaned in, distracting him with slow kisses. He tugged the belt, freeing it from the loops, one by one.

Max breathed out, nudging his head against Jack's. He couldn't catch his breath, his heart pounding too fast as Jack undressed them both. He reached wordlessly for him, tumbling down to the sheets and giving in to the sweet kisses and seductive hands of the strange boy he'd brought home.

X

Jack lay on his side in the bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. He listened to the sound of Max's quiet breaths, his face still flushed. He licked his dry lips and stretched slowly, hearing the quick intake behind him when he did so. Max hadn't been able to stop touching him, tracing his tattoos even. His skin still tingled from Max's possessive touch.

"Are you…"

"I'm fine, Max," Jack murmured, moving over the bed. He worked at the sheets, freeing his legs, and once clear, grabbed at his jeans where they'd landed on the floor. He dug through his pockets, pulling out his cigarettes and lighter. He lit one as fast as he could, hiding the faint tremor in his fingers.

Max shifted and Jack could _feel_ the intense dark eyes on him. It felt weird, strange to have him sit there still. Bobby hadn't been one for cuddling. Jack looked down at index finger, resisting the urge to gnaw on the uneven nail. Max seemed unsure and Jack smiled bitterly, letting a plume of smoke out. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, what they'd both wanted, hadn't he?

"Doesn't look like it."

"Huh?" Jack glanced over his shoulder, startled. "Oh…Trust me, I'm fine."

He held up his cigarette questioningly. "You don't mind if I…?"

Max shook his head. "Don't care." He moved closer to Jack, one hand sliding along the curve of Jack's spine.

Jack shivered a little, Max's fingers sending a small thrill through him. "You don't have to, y'know, treat me like a woman, ok?"

"What?" Max's hand stilled, then withdrew.

"I mean, well shit," Jack inhaled again, fighting to get the words out right. "You don't have to cuddle me, treat me gently. I ain't about to break. I'm not some dainty little girl."

"You don't want me touching you?"

"It's not that." Jack moved back to face him. He tried not to cringe at the look of disappointment in Max's face. "It's just…Fuck, I don't know…"

Max ran his hand along Jack's shoulder, lingering on the cross on his right arm, his fingers brushing over his dedication to Evelyn on his skin. "You figure I'm going to take what I want, slap you on the ass, and be on my way?"

Jack shrugged silently.

"And if I want to lay here with you, like this instead?"

A smile tugged at Jack's lips. "I wouldn't mind," he admitted.

"Then get back over here," Max's lips twitched as well, the hints of a real smile emerging on them, the first that Jack had seen since he'd arrived.

Jack slipped off the bed and opened the bedroom window quickly, extinguishing his cigarette in the snow covered ledge. He shivered hard in the cold breeze, slamming it shut and all but diving back onto the bed and under the covers.

Max brushed a kiss over Jack's forehead, smoothing the messy hair back. "You're really somethin', Jack."

He closed his eyes. Hearing that quiet voice, one so familiar to Bobby's, sometimes it was too much to handle. "Thanks…" he sighed. Jack pressed against him, feeling Max's arms slid around his waist, tugging him closer, holding him securely. He felt safe.

X


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Chasing Ghosts 4/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

If Jack had been the betting type, he would have tossed all his money on Max acting strangely after giving in to his hormones. He expected it, despite Max seeming more concerned about Jack regretting his decision to be intimate with him. Men like Max, he'd found before, could vary in their reactions afterwards regardless of what they'd promised beforehand.

He couldn't have sworn to it, but he was pretty sure that Max seemed calmer the next morning, a certain degree of relaxation to his shoulders as he made his coffee at a nearly ungodly hour of pre-daylight. Jack had rolled over and encountered a cold spot that Max had occupied until recently. He breathed in, Max's scent still lingering on the pillow next to him.

He hadn't counted on Max being this calm in general.

Jack sat up slowly and stretched, working his way out of the warm sheets. With a pang of sadness, he looked out the window. Bobby hadn't been much for cuddling. He'd found it repellent, though he'd often wrapped a possessive arm around Jack as he'd slept, holding him as if he was afraid Jack would slip away in the night. Max however, he'd rested next to Jack, one hand absently stroking down the length of Jack's side.

Slipping silently off the bed, Jack padded over to his discarded clothes. He dressed, shivering a bit in the morning chill. He longed to jump back under the sheets, but then again, Max might not want him to do so. Jack ran his tongue along his teeth, debating that.

As he did so, he headed into the kitchen and shifted close to Max, leaning against the counter. "Hey…"

Max looked up from the coffee he was stirring, a faint smile quirking his lips for a moment. "Morning," he dropped the spoon to the counter. "Sleep ok?"

"Mm," Jack nodded, fighting the urge to shiver again. He'd left his sweater on the edge of the bed. "S'warmer when you're sharing a bed, huh?"

Max choked on his sip of coffee, his throat bobbing. "I…" he took another sip, as if to fortify himself. "Yeah, I suppose it is. It's been a long time since I have."

"So you really haven't been…with anyone since?" Jack felt his eyebrows creep up.

Max turned away, busying his hands with the washcloth at the side of the sink. "No."

Jack let several minutes tick by, debating the length of Max's silence. "She was beautiful," he murmured. "From…from the pictures I saw."

"She was." Max's voice was strained. He gripped the counter, his knuckles tight for a long moment. He relaxed his fingers and turned back to face Jack. "I miss her. Every goddamned day, Jack, I still miss her. And…and it never stops. No matter how I feel about y…about anyone," his jaw tightened.

"No one says you gotta. Fuck anyone who thinks you shouldn't."

Max let out a breath and shook his head. "I can't ask you to be ok with that."

Ok, that hurt. Jack covered the flinch by shrugging. "I'm not lookin' for romance. I thought I made that clear last night. I'm not a girl, you've gotta stop seeing me that way. I don't need to be treated like I'm some fragile waif."

"I don't think you're a girl!" Max snapped. "I…fuck; this is what I was talking about."

"You're doing this to yourself." Jack covered the top of Max's coffee cup, slipping it under and away from him. He took a sip and wrinkled his nose, "Jesus, its called sugar, Max. Ugh…" he passed the mug back.

"I…I drink it unsweetened," Max muttered, clearly taken aback.

Jack ignored the bitter taste on his tongue. His throat ached and he wanted to smack Max. Or kiss away that confused look of frustration from Max's face. "I never said one thing about replacing her. I'm just…here."

"And I'm not a replacement, either?"

Jack swallowed over the lump in his throat. "No…"

Max drank the rest of his coffee, a look Jack couldn't decipher in his eyes. Jack fixed his attention on the tiled floor, listening to the sound of Max breathing. "You need to relax more," he said, his words aimed at the floor.

"I don't need advice." Max slapped the mug down on the counter and left the kitchen, a cool breeze lingering behind him.

Jack sighed under his breath. He rinsed the mug out, Max's angry footsteps echoing down the hallway. When the door shut, once again without a slam, Jack let his shoulders slump.

That went well. He rubbed a hand over his hair, mussing the already messy strands. "Stupid…"

Jack could practically hear Bobby's derisive laughter at him. He'd made it uncomfortable for himself, for Max even. And yeah…yeah Max knew a part of Jack had found a replacement in him, there was no hiding it.

Jack sighed again, shaking his head. "Can't have everything you want, Jackie boy," he mumbled, watching the water swirl down the drain.

X

Passing time could be a lonely business. Jack knew that on a personal level. He'd kept busy while Max was at work, found ways to pass the hours on his own. He'd been good at it in other cities, had passed many an hour in his teens by simply disappearing in the world of music. He'd filled notebooks with angry and angst filled lyrics, had played his guitar until his fingers were achy and calloused.

And yet, even in a city as dense as New York, Jack hadn't covered very much territory. He'd stuck close to Max's apartment, never venturing all that far from the darkened rooms that felt impersonal, even with Max's belongings in them.

There was something uncomfortable in the streets that he had been on. Something he didn't care for. Something that felt like eyes watching him. Jack glanced over his shoulder for the tenth time since he'd taken to the streets that morning. He couldn't shake it, that _feeling_ of being followed.

He paused in front of a store, pulling out his lighter and a cigarette from his dwindling supply. As he lit one, he looked around casually, searching for a sign that he wasn't crazy. His brothers had trained him far too well to not spot someone tailing him. As he inhaled, Jack let his gaze wander over each passerby.

Nothing popped. Nothing came up suspicious.

Jack rested back against the brick of the store, smoke floating in a thin stream above his head. Sometimes he could almost feel Bobby near him, and fuck, wasn't that just insane? He smirked around his cigarette. Bobby never broke a vow, not once in the time that Jack had been a Mercer.

A man walked past Jack, a slight sneer curving his mouth. His gaze darted in Jack's direction, then away, then back again. Jack stiffened, one hand fisting at his side. The man paused at the nearby intersection, looking about in different directions, his boots shifting about in the snow covered ground, everything about him screaming jittery, anxious even.

Jack stubbed out his cigarette on the brick wall, stuffing it into the pack. He took a quick breath, ready to bolt, ready to fight, whatever it took. The man glanced back at him, a nervous, ratty look to his dirty face. Jack cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow lazily raised, a look that never failed to piss people off, one well patented over time.

The man drew his lips back, sneering more. He fidgeted closer to Jack, still looking every which way.

It had to figure he'd be a junkie. Jack rolled his eyes. As the man drew closer, Jack ran a hand over his pocket, his small blade hidden inside. His thumb grazed the opening of the pocket.

"Somethin' you want?"

The man stopped in front of Jack, his feet shuffling still, "Brave lil' thing, ain'tcha?"

Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.

"You hidin' out in that place?"

That caught his attention. "The fuck did you say?" he demanded.

"You ain't smart then," the man snorted, then spat a rather large glob of yellowish phlegm on the pavement. "Seen you goin' in an' outta there," he added. "You oughta bail from there, little boy."

Jack moved his hand into his pocket, gripping the knife tightly. "Go fuck yourself."

"Don't know who you been with, boy?"

"Back the fuck off," Jack hissed through his teeth. He brought his hand back out, giving him a glimpse off his blade.

"Your loss," the man took a step back despite his bravado. "Nosy man's gonna bring down problems. Best not be around when shit's fallin' from the sky."

"How 'bout you go find another hit before I put a few holes in you, motherfucker!" Jack took a big step forward, the tip of the blade resting against the grimy skin of the man's neck.

The man swallowed audibly and then huffed out a shaky laugh. "Easy lil' boy, don't go wavin' that sticker around."

"Then do yourself a favour an' get the fuck outta here!"

He nodded rapidly, backing away from Jack. "That man's chasin' after what he ain't s'posed to know," he whispered before hurrying away from him.

Jack stared after him, baffled. "What in the hell…"

He stuffed his knife back into his pocket and walked, moving on autopilot to the nearest coffee shop. He suddenly felt cold all over, despite the man having left as though his ass was on fire. And even after he stepped into the warmth of the shop, he still felt eyes on the back of his head.

X

Hours later, Jack sat on Max's foldout couch, thumbing idly over his guitar strings, doing his best not to stare at the clock. The hands on the face of it were mocking him, he was sure of it. Jack scowled down at his guitar, thinking back to the bizarre man who'd approached him. He still felt vaguely dirty, despite the long shower he'd taken once he'd reached the safety of Max's apartment.

He could ignore the ramblings of some random junkie. It wasn't like he'd never seen junkies back home, he mused, playing song after song as he waited. He'd seen plenty but none had come up to him with cryptic ramblings quite like that.

Jack frowned. In fact, how in the hell had that junkie known who Max was? Had he arrested him before? Before his wife had died and he'd gone down to work the cold cases?

He strummed faster, almost angry that his relative peace had been disturbed. He'd left Detroit for a reason, running away from Bobby, from the way it hurt to stand in Evelyn's house.

"Working on a new one?"

Jack flinched and almost dropped his guitar, badly startled. "Jesus Christ, Max!"

Max looked somewhat amused. "Sorry."

"Don't look very sorry," Jack grumbled. He righted himself on the couch, clasping his guitar. "You're late."

Max looked at his watch, "Yeah." He resumed staring at Jack. "You ok? You look kind of…disturbed."

Jack smiled at that, unfolding his legs from where he'd been sitting. He knelt up on the couch and leaned over, tugging the end of Max's tie. "I'm fine. You're still late. Good thing I didn't have dinner on the table, hm?"

"Yeah, good thing," Max agreed, his words fading when Jack tugged harder, bringing him down for a kiss that sent sparks shooting down his spine.

Jack licked the edge of Max's lip and let go of his tie. "Maybe next time…"

He slipped off the couch and stood up, setting his guitar to the side gently. "Say the word, I can cook for you. I can make more than turkey dinners."

"It was an excellent turkey dinner," Max leaned on the doorway jamb. "You're too modest."

Jack stood next to Max and put his head to Max's neck, breathing him in. He didn't smell like cigarette smoke or whiskey and sometimes Jack missed that part of Bobby. He let out a soft breath and leaned in closer, enjoying the way Max's hand rested in the small of his back.

"Sure you're alright?" Max rubbed his hand back and forth along Jack's spine.

"Perfectly fine," Jack nodded, feeling only a little guilty for the white lie.

Max frowned. "C'mon, we'll grab something for dinner. You feel up for Chinese tonight?"

"Always," Jack reluctantly moved his head, stepping aside to pass Max in the doorway.

"I still say you don't eat enough."

Jack snorted. He tugged his coat on and buttoned it, amused by Max's perpetual fussing over him. Much like Evelyn had fussed, a part of him wanted the attention while he instinctively wanted to protest the treatment.

"I'm not arguing this with you."

Max lifted an eyebrow. "Then eat an' I won't have to nag your ass."

"Last night you liked my ass the way it was." Jack smirked at him and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

The color rose in Max's face. "You are…something else."

"Prude…"

"I'm not a damn prude," Max sputtered. "I…shut up, you."

Jack laughed and kissed Max again, silencing his protests easily enough. Max grumbled but his arms came up, keeping Jack pressed against him tightly. "Make me," Jack murmured, nipping Max's bottom lip.

"You keep that up and we won't make it out the door."

"And if that's the plan?"

"You need to eat sometime," Max nudged Jack against the wall, his knee pushing between Jack's legs, pinning him there.

Jack took in a breath, letting his earlier worries fade away. "After…"

X


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Chasing Ghosts 5/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

Surrounded by takeout cartons, some still full, some long since empty, Jack fiddled with his chopsticks, beating out a slow pattern on the wooden table. His appetite sated, Jack flipped a chopstick in the air, catching it before it clattered back down amidst the mess of dinner.

"Show off," Max muttered under his breath. He'd used a fork for his meal.

"Takes practice is all." Jack grinned and flipped his chopstick, watching it land on two spring rolls. "I learned years ago, it was the first thing Bo…" his lips tightened into a parody of a smile. "I…I was a quick learner."

Max set his fork to the side of the plate. "You don't need to do that. Don't try and avoid it."

"I doubt you want me tellin' you all about him."

"You're right and you're wrong." Max sighed as he sat back on his chair. "No, I don't want small details but you don't have to hold it all back. He is…he was important to you. Michelle was important to me," his voice caught at that, the same sound Jack had grown accustomed to hearing when he mentioned his wife.

Jack bit the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, you got a point. Doesn't matter anyway, that's the past, this is now, and you have the rest of the dumplings over there. Spare some?"

Max looked as though he wanted to protest the abrupt changing the conversation. He held out the carton, his dark eyes scrutinizing every inch of Jack's face, searching for any sign of what, Jack wasn't sure.

"Thanks," he picked out a dumpling, skewering it on his remaining chopstick. He nibbled along the edge of it, aware of Max still staring at him. He'd figured that eventually Max would tire of always _watching_ him, but, as it turned out, he hadn't up to this point.

"So…um, I know you said you work in the Cold Cases, right?" At Max's nod, Jack fought the urge to fidget. "Before that though, what kind of department were you in?"

"I worked with the DEA and the Homicide department," Max pushed the carton closer to Jack.

A heavy silence fell between them. Max looked away, his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Jack let his chopstick slide down to his plate, the dumpling forgotten. That creepy guy he'd seen…He forced a shrug. "Just curious, I guess. Don't know that much about you after all."

"I left them because of what happened. Michelle and…" Max's face closed off for a long moment. "They never found the guys who did it, like they disappeared into thin fucking air."

"Christ…" Jack sighed. That explained a lot.

"But why Cold Cases?" he prompted when Max said nothing.

"Guess I figured I could find something that would lead me to some info," Max shrugged a little, "Something to help me figure out why I lost them."

"They're not lost."

Max's fingers curled into a fist. "No? What do you call it?"

Jack swallowed awkwardly. He wasn't afraid of Max, per say, just uneasy about his potential to explode. "It's not lost," he murmured. "They're gone…"

"Bullshit."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he snapped, "Why the sudden curiosity, Jack?"

"I…I don't know. I was curious, I told you. You're not much for talking."

"Yeah, well curiosity killed the cat."

Jack blinked rapidly. Max sounded so mad at such a simple question. "Look, I know what the DEA is, ok? It's not some big shameful thing."

"You don't know shit. Stop asking questions."

Jack moved off his chair and shook his head. "Yessir, _Detective_ Sir…"

"Jack…Jack, sit down," Max sighed, one hand clasping Jack's left wrist. "I'm sorry, it's not…damn it!"

"Let go of me." Jack yanked his wrist loose. "I'm not pissed," he lied. "I need some air. I'll be back in a bit."

"It's snowing too hard right now," Max protested. "It's storming."

Jack weighed his options. Truthfully, he was tired of bickering with Max all the time but the idea of spending a night out in a city he was unfamiliar with, knee deep in snow with no real money to speak of? He sighed heavily and nodded.

"Fine," he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't care if he was pouting or not.

Max did look somewhat apologetic. "You full now?"

Jack leaned against the table and grabbed a fortune cookie. "Yeah," he muttered. He cracked open the shell, removing the slip of paper within. He squinted at the tiny writing and huffed out a laugh. "Figures…"

_…in the end, all things will be known…_

He snorted and crumpled the piece of paper into a tiny ball. Without a further thought, he stuffed it into his jeans pocket.

Max seemed to be looking over Jack's shoulder, his gaze unfocused. "You want a drink?"

Jack nodded. "God yeah…"

X

In the morning, Jack waited until Max had left for work. He'd spent the night on the bed next to Max, alternately cold and hot throughout the hours. Max hadn't touched him and for that, Jack was grateful. He hadn't felt up to a round of angry sex.

Within moments, he bundled himself up and headed out, locking the door securely behind him. He tucked the key that Max had given him deep into his pocket, his breath forming in puffs above his head even before he'd completely stepped out the front doors of the building. He shivered and tugged his scarf up higher on his neck. "Damn snow…"

He pushed through the snow, grimly aware of the slushy snow that was leaking into his battered boots. Ignoring the growing wetness of his socks, Jack continued on until he found a payphone, one only half buried in the mountain of snow on the sidewalk. He shoved the door to the side, grunting as it squealed and squeaked and resisted his efforts.

Jack kicked the door open all the way and stepped inside, wincing at the smell. Someone had used the booth as a toilet recently. He thumbed through the old phone book, tracing through the lists of libraries in the city. He looked up, checking for any bystanders before ripping the page out.

With a sigh, he folded the paper into a square and stuffed that in his pocket as well.

X

The hushed inside of the library was somewhat comforting to Jack. He'd escaped to more than a few in his younger years, hiding away from bullies until his brothers had taught him the finer points of fighting back. He'd bruised his fists practicing with Angel, with Bobby, had learned to dodge with Jerry. And yet, the library was still familiar in a way that calmed him.

Melted snow gathered around his chair, seeping into the carpet beneath him. Jack focused on the screen, his fingertips flying over the keyboard. Through search engines, Jack tracked the scant information that he'd gleaned from Max in the time he'd been in the apartment. He bit his lip, reading as fast as he could through the news articles that had been printed immediately following the death of the Payne's.

The words hardly varied from Max's. A robbery, a break in gone horribly wrong, mother and child shot to death. Max had come home during the break in, seen the broken window and run upstairs. One of the murderers had been shot by Max as he'd run up the stairs, searching for his wife, another as he'd struggled with the man in front of the bedroom door. The third had escaped out the window, leaving Max to find the bloodied bodies of his wife and son.

Max had been ten minutes too late to save them.

Jack blinked away tears. It reminded him far too much of Evelyn's death.

There had been almost no leads, no prints beyond the first two who'd been shot on scene, no prints, no visual description of the third man, and no motives beyond robbery. When the interest in the case had faded, Max had transferred to the Cold Case department. His partner at the time, Alex Balder, had stayed in the Homicide unit.

Jack sat back, exhaling softly. He ran both hands through his damp hair, feeling chilled to the bone. He thought fleetingly of Bobby, of how doggedly he'd pursued Victor Sweet and his men, fighting Victor to the death over what had been done to his mother, what Victor had tried to do to Jack. Bobby would have done no less than Max, he was certain of that.

He knuckled his eyes, rubbing them tiredly. What had searching out sad information given him?

Jack sighed and clicked through several of the links, following the name of Max's old partner. He was still listed in the precinct from before. Max hadn't mentioned him at all. Jack chewed on his lower lip, rubbing his tongue stud against his teeth. Why hadn't he?

On a burst of curiosity, Jack searched for any history on Michelle Payne. Her name came up in old archived information from a corporation with the name of Aesir. And again as a scholarship program. Jack frowned.

The **Michelle Payne Memorial Scholarship** **Fund**, a funding for art students to be exact, a program started less than a year ago. No mention of this from Max either. In fact, had Jack not gone through the photos, he'd of had no idea what she even looked like, let alone that there was some scholarship fund in her memory.

Jack grabbed a pen from the desk and a scrap of paper, jotting down Alex Balder's information. "Super sleuth Jack Mercer on the hunt," he mumbled dryly, finding little humour in the situation. Prying details from Max had given him nothing but a headache, but Bobby had schooled Jack well in the art of never backing down.

Searching for who had arranged Evelyn's death had consumed Bobby, even when Jerry had known what going up against Victor Sweet would entail. Jack rubbed his shoulder absently, massaging away the phantom pains. He could still hear the gunshots that had flown through the air. He supposed he always would.

Jack logged off the computer, erasing his search history before he left, Alex Balder's numbers burning a hole in his pocket.

X

There was something about police stations that gave Jack the creeps. He stared up at the building; his shoulders hunched defensively, almost waiting for a random cop to hassle him. "You're not in Detroit anymore," he kicked at the snow, shaking his head.

No one, short of Max, knew who Jack Mercer was in this city.

Walking into a police station and asking to speak to some cop though? Jack fumbled for the slip of paper and unfolded it painstakingly, re-reading the phone numbers listed. A phone call might be better, he reasoned, less suspicious in the end. With that, Jack hurried to the nearest pay phone and scrounged for change in his jacket pocket.

He dropped the coins in and punched in Alex's main phone number. With each ring, Jack heard his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "This is nuts," he whispered aloud.

"Detective Balder," a voice finally answered, one that sounded somewhat distracted.

Jack held his breath. And just what the hell was he going to say to this man? _'Hi, I'm currently fucking your ex-partner and he won't tell me anything about his dead wife's murder?'_

"Hello?"

Jack licked his bottom lip and firmed his grip on the phone. "Uh…h-hi…" he groaned inwardly. Brilliant, Jack.

"Who is this?"

"I…I'm a…"

"Look kid, I'm a busy man. If this is a prank call, then go ask some other guy if his refrigerator is runnin', ok?"

"No! No, wait, I'm-I'm not, it's not that," Jack rushed out hurriedly. "I'm a friend of Max Payne's and…and…"

"Uh huh," the man snorted at that. "Max Payne doesn't have friends, kid. Good-bye."

"Wait!" Jack pleaded. "I'm serious; you're Alex Balder, right? His old partner?"

The detective paused, giving Jack a glimmer of hope. "What did you say?"

Jack held the phone closer, his fingers suddenly slippery with sweat. "Before he transferred to the Cold Case Unit, you guys worked together. You uh…you worked on his wife's death?"

There was a long pause and Jack mentally counted thirty unbearably long seconds before he heard the cold fury in the man's voice as he spoke.

"Who the hell is this and why are you calling me?"

"I'm…" Jack took a quick breath. "I'm a friend of Max's, I swear. A, uh…new friend, that is. I was reading up on what happened to them, an' he never mentioned you, but I found your name in the newspaper articles, and I thought, maybe you'd talk to me and…yeah…"

"You thought wrong."

"Please, Detective Balder. Just, just give me five minutes of your time. I won't call again; I'm only…trying to help him."

"You're trying to help him by bringing up the worst day of his life?"

"I…"

There was another long pause and just as Jack was about to hang up the phone, he heard the muted sigh on the other line. "I'll give you ten minutes, but not in my office. Meet me at the coffee shop two blocks from here."

"Thanks," Jack blinked rapidly, stunned at the reply. "Yeah, no problem, I'll be there."

"Yeah," with that, he did hang up then, the dial tone echoing in Jack's ear loudly.

Jack hung the phone up, his hand shaking. "I must be nuts…"

X

In the coffee shop, Jack pretended to look at the old plastic menu on the table, his knee bobbing nervously while he waited for any sign of a cop. The waitress was currently giving him pointed looks, as if waiting for him to pull a gun and rob the place.

Jack looked up as the bell over the door tinkled and a man stepped into the doorway, dusting snow from the shoulders of his coat. He was of medium height and had rapidly greying reddish hair. His lined face looked around the shop warily and Jack would have pegged him for a cop in three seconds flat. He moved his head to the side, regarding the people sprinkled here and there.

Finally his eyes landed on Jack. He studied him for a moment and then walked over, pulling his chair back unceremoniously. He sat down and glared at Jack. "I'm guessin' you're the 'friend' then, huh?"

Jack entertained himself with the idea that the detective was possibly homophobic. He nodded and gave him a polite smile. "Yessir, I'm Jack, and you'd be Alex, right?"

"That's Detective Balder to you."

Christ. Jack tried not to roll his eyes. Cops…

"Uh yeah, sorry, Detective," he said with a quick nod.

"Jack who?"

"Mercer, Jack Mercer."

He said nothing, simply looking at Jack with narrowed eyes. "How do you know Max?"

Jack kept his polite smile in place. Oh this would be fun…

"Um well, I've been uh, staying with him, actually."

Alex's eyebrows lifted up nearly to his hairline. "Really," he stated.

Jack felt colour rising up his neck and into his cheeks. "Yeah…" he gave a little cough and felt his smile weakening. "For about two weeks or so now," he added.

"And why would he let you stay with him?"

Jack swallowed awkwardly. "I don't know. He kind of brought me back with him. I needed a place to stay."

"I see."

Jack bristled at that. "No, you don't. I know exactly what you're thinkin' and you're wrong. I'm not a whore."

Alex looked at him, his lips quirking in a not quite sneer. "Who said anything about you being paid?"

"Listen here you asshole," Jack began, his eyes wide with anger, forgetting the whole reason he'd pleaded with him to meet together.

"Sit down," Alex snapped. "I don't give a shit about that right now."

Jack exhaled and sat down, gripping his knees. "I'm asking for your help, not your opinions."

"You want my help by bringing up the murders? Some friend…"

"I want to help him," Jack said through clenched teeth. "I care about him and I know he's not handling things well."

Alex nodded once and looked away, his hand drumming on the table idly. "I don't know how many ways there are to handle what he went through."

"I'm aware of that. But, what I mean is, he's shut down. You gotta have seen that."

"Max is Max. He's not going to suddenly become a happy guy, Jack, you need to understand that. Who he was and who he is now," he paused, his face drooping sadly, "That's two very different people."

Jack huffed impatiently. "You aren't getting it."

"What's to get?"

"Everything!" he exploded.

Alex shook his head slowly. "Jack, there's nothing you can do for him. Michelle was everything to him. When she died, he stopped caring about everything else. And to tell you the truth, even if he found the missing guy, it still wouldn't fix anything. Nothing's gonna bring either of them back and deep down, he knows that."

"So I just give up and watch him rot away in misery?"

"You seem like a nice kid overall, Jack. Move on and look for someone…better suited to you. Trying to help Max isn't going to work. You don't wanna get mixed up in this kind of business. He's not on the even path any more."

Jack clenched his teeth. How he loathed being treated like a pesky child underfoot. "Some partner you are. You're a shitty friend if you're not even willing to try."

"And you don't have all the details, ones you're better off not knowin'."

"I would if you'd give me a fucking break!"

Alex stood up and pushed his chair back against the table. "There's nothing I can tell you. I had nothing to go on myself and I pushed and pushed but the case was a dead end. End of story. It's not like I'm happy that we never had any damned resolution. Take my advice, Jack and leave before you get hurt, or worse, before Max hurts you."

"He's not exactly the violent type," Jack hissed.

"That you've seen. So far," Alex added pointedly. "You don't know all of Max. It's better if you don't."

"Go fuck yourself then," Jack screeched his chair back. "All I wanted was something to go on, something to help figure out why that apartment feels like it's choking the life out of him one fucking day at a time. I'm not askin' you to go out and solve the murders tonight!"

Alex regarded him with silent, sad eyes. He turned away and strode over to the door, letting it slam behind him, the damned bell tinkling as the door shut. Jack sat back down and rested his head on the table, suddenly exhausted. Alex's flat out refusal to aid Jack had absolutely infuriated him and made him want to dig his heels in even more.

He ignored the waitress who walked by him with a huff of disapproval. This hadn't gone well, he mused.

X


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Chasing Ghosts 6/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

As annoyed as Jack still was, he'd expected Alex Balder to give him a brush-off in regards to Max's history. Jack could have been anyone and when someone suddenly pops up asking painful questions, one tends to be suspicious, he figured. And Alex Balder wasn't just anyone, a cop, no less. Jack grimaced at that. Damned cops…

It'd been an awfully long time since he'd trusted one, Max being the exception.

Jack poked at the snow with one wet boot while he smoked, contemplating just what the hell his next move would be. He exhaled slowly, watching the wind carry the smoke wisps away from him. He couldn't tell Max about Alex, couldn't ask Alex for anything else.

He flicked his cigarette thoughtfully. If Alex wasn't willing to talk, then who would?

With a half smile, Jack leaned against the back of the bench he'd perched on. Bobby had all but dragged his brothers along with him in his crusade to avenge Evelyn's murder. He'd questioned people he'd had no business talking to, chased down thugs, murdered said thugs, and threatened to kill others who'd withheld information. And so on…

As he smoked, Jack kicked at the snow. 'You're no Bobby though,' he reminded himself.

Bobby would have known where to start. He would have known what kind of people to intimidate into spilling their guts. Jack stubbed out the last bit of his cigarette and exhaled the last plume of smoke. All he had was some half baked notion that he was going to find out what had gone wrong and use that to try and repair the damaged man he cared all too damned much about.

So what if the cops themselves hadn't solved the case? Jack frowned. So nothing, he decided.

As he stood up, he shoved his hands in his pockets, the creepy sensation of being watched falling over him. He hunched his shoulders and walked away from the bench, straining his eyes for any sign that someone or something was about to appear.

Nothing around him but white snow and a few random people walking about here and there, some laden with bulging shopping bags, and others clutching at their briefcases. Jack kept his eyes on the people around him and hurried along the snow covered path. It was getting late and Max would be home soon.

He dodged in and out of the crowds, blocking out all the noises that echoed off the streets and buildings, the surges of people at every crosswalk. Jack looked up in time to see a car come careening around the corner of the intersection, a dark blue cargo van that came far too close to the people standing closest to the curb.

His breath caught in his throat, his feet skidding over the slippery ground to a stop. Just then, he felt someone slam into him, sending him forward and crashing into the body of the man in front of him. Jack bit his tongue as he did so, already mumbling an apology as the man turned to grab him.

"The fuck you think you're doin'?" the man growled, shaking Jack's shoulders.

His head lolled from the force of the shake. Before he could answer, two hands clamped down on each of his arms, dragging him back from his irritated fellow pedestrian. Jack gathered his senses, feeling his boots drag and skid over the random patches of icy cement.

"W-What…" he scrambled to see who was pulling him. "Hey!"

"Shut up!" a voice hissed unseen.

Jack yanked his arms forward, struggling to free them from the tight grip. "Let go, asshole!"

He yanked again and managed a yelp as he was slammed into a wall. The bricks scraped along Jack's cheek, biting into his skin unmercifully. Jack groaned, breathing hard, his cheek stinging in the frigid air.

A man stood before him, dressed in dirty clothes, his eyes wide. Great, Jack thought sarcastically, another tweaker. The man looked around; his dark pupils dilated widely, his hair sticking up in wild tufts. He nodded at nothing and stood back, releasing Jack's arms.

"Sorry 'bout all that, but you're goin' the wrong way."

"Says you," Jack grumbled. He braced his back off the wall warily. "The fuck do you want?"

The man paced a somewhat straight line, shaking his head back and forth as he did so. "I seen you, I seen you talk, talk, talkin' to that copper. You know him? Huh?"

Jack shrugged. "And…?"

The man laughed a high pitch laugh, his yellowed teeth sharp and unevenly spaced. "You a fool, boy," he said. He scratched at his wrists, then up to his arms, blue lines standing out against his white skin. "You a fool an' you gonna burn within the angels."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure, me and everyone else too, right? We're all going to Hell?"

The man shoved his arm in Jack's face, an elaborate wing tattoo scrawled over his unwashed skin. "They take you up in their wings, boy. They take you up an' you gone then!" he screamed.

Jack recoiled backwards, smacking his head sharply into the brick. He winced, his vision blurring from the impact. The man screamed and screamed, ranting in front of him, the words running together in an incoherent ramble. Jack turned his head to the side, shadowy movements floating above them both.

The movements hovered, a slow whooshing of wind that mussed Jack's hair, the shadows sharpening to the outline of black wings for a moment. He blinked slowly and they vanished, the man running out of the alley as if he was on fire. Jack held a hand to the back of his head, blood trickling over his fingers. He groaned and slid down into the snow, waiting for the world to stop spinning around him.

X

Jack fumbled his way back to the apartment in time to see Max stomping back down the stairs to the front entrance, a scowl carved into his face. Jack stayed back a few steps, watching Max make his way to the nearby parking lot and get into his car, the sound of the door slamming echoing across to him.

The engine roared and Max tore out of the parking lot a moment later, disappearing from sight. Jack caught his breath, his heartbeat slamming against his ribcage. Christ, did Max _ever_ look like Bobby when he was pissed, was his only thought. Jack hesitated a moment before hurrying upstairs.

The apartment felt colder than usual, every light off but one in the hallway. Jack stopped in the bathroom, probing the back of his head gently with his hand. He hissed, nudging the sore spot with his thumb. At least the bleeding had stopped. He splashed some water on his face and dried off hurriedly.

Max had left a piece of paper by the bed, his handwriting a messy scrawl.

_Gone out for a few hours, order a pizza or whatever. _

_Don't wait up. _

_Max_

Next to the note was a small wad of bills. Jack swallowed back his reflexive annoyance and stuffed the bills into his faded wallet. The note itself seemed angry. Jack crumpled it in one hand, his decision already made. He wasn't some house cat, content to wait around for Max to return. There was something incredibly fucked up going on and sitting here wouldn't solve anything, he reasoned.

Jack closed the door behind him again and crept down the stairs, ignoring the pulsing of his still fresh wound.

X

Several hours of smoky bars and darker corners had given Jack little else but a buzz and a growing nausea. He laughed to himself, staggering down the sidewalk, looking for the familiar building he'd been staying in. He rested against a telephone pole, laughing into the wind.

The cool air felt good on his flushed skin. Jack tilted his head way back, breathing in large gulps of air and swaying back and forth as he did so. Somewhere, far way, he could hear screams, the whooshing of air.

Like wings…

Jack blinked. He turned to one side, listening as another scream echoed. Not far away, not far at all, he realized. He moved off the telephone pole, stumbling towards the alleyway where he'd heard the sounds. He stopped short at the sight of a woman running through the alley, looking behind her while she did so.

He could hear the wind rushing above, that flapping sound, the one that made his skin crawl. A shadow leapt at the woman, covering her in darkness. Jack rubbed at his face with one hand, blinking away this bizarre hallucination. He couldn't see her, couldn't see anything but the shadow, and couldn't hear anything but the sound of flapping wings.

Jack scrambled backwards when the shadow looked at him, his breath choking in his throat. He ran for the front door of the building, hurtled inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. As he ran up the stairs, his nausea returned full force. He nearly gagged, rounding up the next flight of stairs but managed to keep it down, his terror of the shadowy creature the only thing he could focus on.

He shoved the key in the door and wrenched it open, bolting the door behind him as fast as he could, his chest heaving with each breath. "Jesus, Jesus fucking Christ," he whispered hoarsely.

"Jack?"

Max came out of the kitchen, a scowl still on his face, but one that was fast melting into concern. "Jack?" he said again. "What happened?"

Jack shook his head mutely, his blue eyes wide with fear. "The shadow…there was…" he trailed off, his hands shaking. "The shadow an' the wings…"

Max stared at him, the oddest look on his face. "What wings?"

Jack ran past him, barely making it to the bathroom in time. He retched into the toilet, his shoulders heaving. Max followed behind him, his footsteps echoing in double time to Jack's ears. He closed his eyes, feeling the floor tilt from under him.

"Jack?" Max touched Jack's head, his fingers catching in the knotted strands of hair.

"What the fuck? You cut your head?"

"Uh," Jack muttered, swiping at the flusher handle. "Um yeah…earlier..."

Max parted the dried bloody strands, swearing quietly to himself. "How?" he demanded.

"The wall," Jack slumped backwards, his hands still shaking. "I saw the shadow thing; it looked at me, Max."

"What shadow thing? You're drunk, aren't you?"

Jack closed his eyes again and put his head in his hands. "Yeah," he laughed, surprised at how close he was to crying right then. "I'm losin' my mind, Max."

Max sighed softly. He leaned down and lifted Jack up. "C'mon, into the shower with you," he said, manipulating Jack against the bathtub ledge.

"Don't want shower sex," Jack protested, pushing at him feebly.

"Oh for Christ's sake," Max muttered crossly. "I'm not going to…to do that with you like this. C'mon, help me get you in the shower."

Jack helped as best he could but his fingers felt as though they'd grown two sizes bigger. He gave up and stood passively in the bathtub as Max undressed him and turned the water on. He leaned against the tiled wall, shivering under the spray.

Had he imagined it all? If he had, then what was really happening?

Jack let out a muted sound of pain when he felt fingers guiding his head under the spray of water. Blood ran in watery rivulets over Jack's shoulders. "M'sorry, Max," he whispered.

Max undressed quickly and stepped into the shower behind him, holding Jack steady under the water. "Shh, nothin' to be sorry about," he said, his strong hands gripping Jack's hips.

"Stupid thing…an' seein' shadows," Jack rambled. "The wings, they were overhead, I heard 'em."

Max shushed him, washing the blood out of Jack's hair with gentle movements. Jack let Max take over, focusing only on the rush of warm water, and the muscled chest pressing against his back. His head rolled to the side and he pressed a faint kiss to Max's neck, feeling his heartbeat pulsing under his lips.

X

With the familiar feeling of a hangover looming, Jack opened only one eye cautiously the next morning. He heard the kettle whistle sharply in the kitchen and slammed his eye shut, croaking out a pathetic moan. Oh Lord, his head hurt. He licked his parched lips and tugged the blankets over his head.

'Why did a hangover inevitably follow a night of reckless drinking?' he wondered with a silent whine.

Jack heard the sound of Max's footsteps and managed to lift his head out of his protective cocoon of blankets. He peered up at him blearily. "Um, hey…"

Max held out a mug for him. "Morning," he said. "You feel human yet?"

"God no," Jack muttered. He took the mug gratefully and sat up a little. He took a slow sip of the coffee and smiled. Sweetened just the way he liked it.

Max sat on the bed, checking his watch. "I have to leave in a few minutes. I wanted to check on you first."

Jack shuffled about until he was sitting up completely. He drained half the mug before he nodded. "M'fine," he said. "Listen, I'm sorry 'bout last night. I uh, used the money you left to hit up a few bars."

"It's fine," Max looked around the bedroom, his face still tight with what seemed like annoyance. "I'll leave more if you want, but use it for food, not booze, alright?"

Jack nodded. He folded his fingers in the blankets. "Max, you sure you're not pissed off?"

"Not at you," Max finally said after several long moments. "I want you to take it easy today. Just stay put."

Jack bit the inside of his cheek, chafing at the request. "Sure." He drained the rest of his coffee and toyed with the mug. He badly wanted to protest against the unfairness of it all.

Max's mouth quirked in an almost smile and he leaned in, cupping Jack's cheek. Jack brushed his lips over Max's, nudging at them and stealing a deeper kiss from him. Max made a sound in his throat, his hand sliding up and into Jack's hair.

Max pulled back after a moment, some colour in his cheeks, a look Jack secretly found to be almost adorable. He cleared his throat and nodded. "I'll be back later."

Jack gave him a small smile. "Yeah, you got it."

Max slipped off the bed and left the room; leaving Jack huddled up in the blankets once more. Jack debated going back to sleep as he stared up at the ceiling, his head still throbbing. He could faintly hear sirens outside the window and sighed, rolling over onto his side.

The lights from a police car flashed along the alleyway, glimpses of it entering Max's bedroom window. Jack frowned and sat up again. He padded out of the bed and across the bedroom, his headache forgotten as he lifted the window and looked outside.

He stared down at the ground, his mouth dry as dust. Jack blinked, and then blinked again but the image stayed the same. There were cops everywhere, yellow caution tape rippling in the wind and white sheets spread out in several spots.

"No," Jack choked out. "Oh holy fuck…"

He backed away from the open window, shaking in the cold breeze that flooded the room immediately. Jack crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth working soundlessly. That woman he'd seen, that woman who'd been screaming for her life as she'd run down the alley…

The shadow that had swooped over her, the one that had filled the alleyway…

Jack swallowed, no moisture left in his mouth. His throat was parched; a dry clicking was all that emerged when he tried to make a sound. He found himself having a desperate wish that he was back home in Detroit, somewhere where he knew Bobby would cover him in a heartbeat.

With trembling fingers, Jack reached for his duffle bag. He pawed out some clothes and put them on, nearly falling over in the process. He threw on one of his hooded sweatshirts, one that he'd swiped from Bobby years before. He laughed and the sound of it was more than a touch hysterical.

"Oh fuck, Max!"

Jack ran for the phone, only to stand there with the receiver in his hand, unable to recall what Max's work number was. He stared at the phone, unsure of what he was doing. He hung up, his stomach flipping and flopping.

"Think, Jack, think…"

Within moments, Jack was dressed in his coat and boots and out the door. He ran down the stairs, slowing down only when he reached the first floor and saw the trio of cops standing close to the door. He aimed for a look of nonchalance as he left the building, his heart pounding the whole way.

As he rounded the corner, Jack broke into a jog, running from the building and towards the precinct that Max worked at, vaguely remembering where he'd said he worked. And as he ran, he swore he could hear the sound of wings flapping nearby.

X


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Chasing Ghosts 7/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

The man sitting behind the front desk seemed less than impressed by Jack's urgency and even less than concerned with the idea of lifting the phone and contacting Max as Jack had pleaded with him to do several times. He scratched at his chin, rubbing the sparse hair under his bottom lip and squinted up at Jack, clearly bored.

Jack was fast on his way to losing his patience.

"Look, I swear on all that is holy, this is an emergency!" Jack said again, resisting the all too tempting urge to slam his fist down on the desk. "If you can just call down, I need to speak to him now."

"I'm real sorry Son, but unfortunately there's a strict rule for contacting people in different departments without identification from the people who're looking to contact them," the man replied with a slightly sarcastic fake smile.

"That is such bullshit!" Jack hissed. "If I had his number, I'd call myself!"

"And what did you say your name was?"

"John Smith!" he snapped.

The man tapped a pen on his desk blotter. "Well then, Mr. Smith," he smiled again and Jack wanted to punch his teeth right down his throat. "I think I need to see some i.d. before I contact Detective Payne."

"I don't have time for this. There's some dead woman in the alley beside his building! I saw her being attacked before she died. For Christ's sake, why won't you listen to me?"

Jack saw the man begin to shake his head again and shoved off the desk. "Fuck this!" he spat and hurried out of the precinct, all but running down the steps of the building. Fighting with a brain dead cop was a massive waste of time and time was a precious commodity.

He paused halfway down the sidewalk and let out a short breath. Alex! He could call Alex. Jack bolted for the nearest phone booth and dug the scrap of paper back out of his pocket. He unfolded it hurriedly and took the last bit of change out of his coat. He punched in the phone number, listening to the line ring and ring.

Jack tapped his boot impatiently on the floor of the phone booth, biting his lip as he did so. The line continued to ring for another minute, then clicked into the answering machine. Jack listened to the sound of Alex Balder reciting the usual 'I'm not here, leave me a message, I'll get back to you', his fingers gripping the receiver until his knuckles whitened.

He hung up, his heart pounding fiercely. "Oh Jesus," he whispered, feeling sick to his stomach.

He couldn't call Max, couldn't get a hold of Alex, couldn't find anyone to talk to…Jack leaned against the phone booth wall, swallowing again and again, his throat aching. One thought kept circling and Jack hated it, God, how he hated knowing that this was more than he could handle. This was Bobby's territory.

Jack laughed bitterly. He sure as fuck couldn't call him.

He ran a hand over his hair, feeling the still tender lump on the back of his head. He sucked in a breath at the flare of pain when his thumb brushed over the bump. "Fucking junkies," he muttered.

A sudden bang made him flinch and Jack stumbled to the side at the sight of an irritated woman yelling at him to hurry up and get the hell out if he wasn't making a call. He mumbled something resembling an apology and fled the phone booth, his shoulders hunched as he walked away.

Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to keep all his thoughts in line. He felt like he was losing his grip on reality, like he was running in circles. There was one too many strange things going on for his taste and all he really wanted was to escape from this insanity and hide under the blankets on Max's bed.

Max…

Jack clenched his jaw and sped up, his boots kicking up small drifts of snow. Max had told him to stay put, a thought that still rankled him. His stomach let out a sharp growl, reminding him that it'd been more than twelve hours since he'd last eaten any solid food.

'Never mind food, you fool,' he scolded his stomach. Worry about food after he got a hold of Max.

With that in mind, Jack hurried back to Max's apartment, his movements slowing when he saw all the cruisers and cops that were still crawling all over the place. Jack licked his lips and edged closer to the building, attempting to look as casual as possible. One somewhat old up car pulled up along the far side of the building, two men stepping out of it.

Max…and Alex…

Jack stared. That explained why Alex hadn't picked up at his office. He gestured to Max, his face pinched and tight. With anger, Jack guessed, or irritation. He stepped to the side, dodging Max's line of vision. Max followed Alex, every line in his face screaming his deep annoyance.

Jack slipped closer to the caution tape that surrounded the alley way. One of the detectives walked past him, making snide comments under his breath as he passed.

"Guess that means they kissed and made up," one remarked to the other, pointing back at Alex.

Jack narrowed his eyes. Huh…interesting. He turned his head, praying his luck would hold. To his surprise, it did. The men continued on, one laughing at the other's crude joke. He moved under the caution tape and stepped behind the coroner's van. His heart began to pound again as he saw the blood that stained the snowy ground, the once white sheets that had stains streaking across them.

His stomach twisted in protest but he forced down the wave of nausea. He could just hear Max and Alex's conversation floating back to him on the wind. He strained his ears, his hunger forgotten as he listened.

"…you showin' me this?"

"Found this here," Alex held up something wrapped in a protective evidence bag. "Did you know her, Max?"

Jack felt his heart clench. _Her…?_

Max stared at Alex, his face pale. He looked at the ground, to one of the bloody sheets, then back at Alex. He knelt down and lifted a corner of the sheet. He studied whatever was under the sheet and then let it fall. Jack tried as best he could, but he couldn't quite see what Max was seeing.

"Natasha," Max muttered.

Alex shifted on his boot heels, his jaw clenched tightly enough to be obvious to Jack. "Let's take a ride," he said and turned away, stalking away from the corpse on the ground.

Max followed, somewhat reluctantly. He looked back at the sheet, his face eerily blank.

Jack let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Ok, this was even worse. He moved back carefully, dodging another cop as he slid under the caution tape once more. He hurried inside the building for a moment, trying to figure out just what the fuck was happening.

X

Even after a fortifying drink from one of the few bottles of alcohol Max had stashed in the cupboards, Jack's hands were still trembling. This was far too much for him. He hadn't enjoyed Bobby's revenge on Victor Sweet. He'd gone along with it because, well shit, you didn't say no to Bobby when he was in _that_ kind of mindset. He'd always wanted Bobby to respect him the way he respected Jerry or Angel and yet…

Jack sighed. He took a long gulp of the whiskey, his throat burning. Bobby didn't respect him, he knew that. Jack fighting alongside his brothers was a joke. He couldn't shoot worth a shit, wasn't trusted to carry a gun when they went 'information hunting', and after…after when Bobby was exhilarated, pumped from the success of threatening people, Jack's job was to be there for Bobby, to be dragged upstairs or into the bathroom as he was needed.

He gripped the glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around. Well, not completely dragged. He'd gone willingly, always had. Bobby had hat kind of effect on him. Even when he was furious at him, Bobby could give him a look that made his knees weak and before he'd know it, he'd be down on the bed, ready to go.

Jack emptied the rest of the whiskey, enjoying the way his head swam. It was easier to think about Bobby when he was drunk, hunger be damned. He pushed the bottle away and swayed off the chair, making his way from room to room. Everything was easier to deal with when he was drunk, he laughed, hiccupping as he crawled onto Max's bed.

Memories, the worst of them, they didn't hurt when he was drunk. They were there, hollow memories floating at the back of his mind. Jack closed his eyes, breathing in Max's scent on the sheets. The smell calmed him, even if he didn't quite smell like Bobby.

When he next opened his eyes, it was to an unsettling silence. He blinked, rubbing at his face with one hand. There was this sound…this whisper quiet sound that made his skin crawl. He peered at the alarm clock on the bedside table. The red numbers on the digital face claimed it was well after five.

Jack strained his ears, harder than in the alley way. The footsteps were so quiet, he was certain that this was not Max, home early for once. Instinctively, he untangled his legs from the bed sheets and crept off the bed as silently as he could manage. His heart raced as he slid under the bottom of the bed, grateful that there was just enough space for him there. Jack held still, hardly daring to breathe. He gradually became aware of a headache pounding between his temples.

The footsteps, still near silent, seemed to be moving through the apartment, picking room after room. He held his breath when the footsteps stopped in Max's bedroom. Jack felt a cold sweat break out all over as two dark combat boots entered his field of vision. He clamped his lips shut, willing his body to comply with the desperate need for silence.

This was not Max, this wasn't someone friendly.

To his growing horror, the boots moved closer to the bed. Jack held as still as he could manage, praying inwardly that Evelyn's spirit was looking out for him. He thought fleetingly of the rosary tucked into his duffel bag and wished he had it to clasp in his hands.

The boots stopped directly beside the bed. Jack forgot to breathe; his body tensed for the moment that this intruder would flip the bed and see him hiding there like a trapped animal.

'Please, please,' Jack begged mentally.

Several agonizingly long minutes passed, the boots still standing inches from Jack's face. The person shifted, the boots moving away. They stopped again by the still open bedroom window. A bead of sweat ran down Jack's forehead, slipping down his nose and falling to the dusty floorboards.

The boots moved once more, pacing a slow line across the room. Jack trembled from the effort of holding still, his heart beating far too fast. Just when he thought he couldn't last another second, the boots left the room.

Before Jack could let out a sigh of relief, he heard a rapid pounding on the front door.

"Max!" a voice shouted through the heavy wood. "Max, you home?"

Alex Balder…Jack closed his eyes, shaking harder. Oh fuck…

The pounding was suddenly cut off, the sound of the hinges screeching as the door was ripped open. Jack held a hand over his mouth, his eyes watering. He wanted to cry out but fear kept him silent. The shout of surprise that followed the door opening made Jack want to be vomit.

"Who-…" was as far as Alex got out before there was a sickening thud and a cry of pain.

Jack gasped. He couldn't block out the sounds, couldn't _not_ hear the sound of murder happening far too close to him. Splatters of blood dropped and arched, spraying over the walls and hardwood. Glass smashed, wood splintered and the coppery smell of blood assaulted Jack's nose. He retched silently, trying not to cry.

Finally, finally, the sounds ended. The lack of noise was worse, far worse.

The boots moved once more, heading back towards the bedroom. Jack went rigid, unable to believe it when a hand clamped down on his ankle and yanked him out from under the bed. In a blur, he was pulled from his hiding spot and into the darkened room, in front of the hideous face of the shadow he'd seen the night before.

X

Noise assaulted his ears, too many people shouting at once, heavy boots clomping back and forth, foreign hands grabbing at him, barking questions he couldn't understand. A light was shone in his face and he tried to lift his arms to push it away. His head pounded and he couldn't see anything but the ungodly bright light before his eyes.

"…your name…"

He tried to speak but his tongue wouldn't co-operate.

"…the ambulance, this one's losin' blood…"

He was lifted, wrapped tightly, buried alive as he was carried out of the apartment. He turned his head to the side and moaned lowly, a shape forming in the hallway, one that he knew, one that wasn't moving, wasn't speaking, wasn't watching him like always.

A tear ran down his cheek, sliding through the smears of blood on his skin.

Max…Jack tried to call out before he slipped under, letting unconsciousness win out.

X


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Chasing Ghosts 8/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

'…_Jackie…Open your eyes, sweetheart…'_

_Jack opens his eyes as she asks him to. As if he wouldn't…As if he'd ignore the sound of her voice. He looks to his side and sees her sitting patiently next to him, her eyes as kind as ever, her hair snowy white, gleaming in the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. He can't stop the immediate burn in his eyes, unshed tears stinging behind his eyelids. _

'_Mom…' he whispers, struggling to sit up, to reach for her. _

'_Lie back now, Jack,' she chides him kindly. _

_He stares at her, hardly able to believe his eyes. She smiles at him, her palm at his side, waiting for him to hold his fingers with hers. He does so slowly, feeling her warm skin brush on his. She smiles and lets out a soft laugh at how large his fingers are compared to her dainty hands. She curls her fingers over his and he can't help it when a tear escapes. _

'_Mom,' he tries, licking his lips. 'I…I needed you.'_

_She smiles again, sadly this time. 'I know, Jackie. I'm sorry.'_

'_Why?' he pleads. He knows he should hurt but this is only a dream and there's no real pain in dreams, only memories of pain and he doesn't want to go back and feel the pain waiting for him. _

'_I promised you that you were safe with me,' she whispers, her soft fingers rubbing little circles over his hand. 'And I'm sorry I couldn't protect you this time.'_

_Jack sniffs, trying not to cry, but this is Evelyn and no one broke down his defences quite like her. 'Not your fault, I know, Ma.'_

'_I'd give anything to keep my boys safe and I miss you, I miss you all so much,' she tells him and he can feel it, feel her love, feel her strength, God, such strength in such a tiny woman. _

_He loses his battle over his tears and nods. He knows she does. 'Miss you too, all the time, every day...'_

'_You left home.' She watches him, her all knowing eyes fixed on his face. _

_Jack swipes at the tears on his cheeks. Of course she knows. 'I had to, Ma. It wasn't…it wasn't home any more after they took you away.'_

_She makes a sound, one Jack recognizes from years of listening to her calm him down. 'It was home with all you boys in it.'_

_Jack looks away from her, his face burning with shame. 'All those years, an' I still ran away too much. Ma…Ma, I can't go back there.'_

'_Hey, Jackie,' she soothes, touching his cheek. 'I never blamed you for having itchy feet, sweetheart. Some of us were born to wander, right? And you sure can go back.'_

_He shakes his head, his shoulders hitching. 'Can't, can't see him, not after everything.'_

'_He misses you, Jackie.'_

_Oh God, Jack cringes, hating everything he feels just then. 'No, he doesn't.'_

_She pets his hair, smoothing the tangles and guiding his head to her. He puts his head on her shoulder, letting the tears fall into the fabric of her shirt. She smells the same; as good as she did the first time she hugged him. _

'_I promise you, he does. They always say you don't know what you have until it's gone. He misses you the same. I know you love him, Jackie. You don't need to hide from that.'_

_Jack sniffles, wanting to believe her. 'He doesn't want what I want. He can't…he said he can't give me what I need, Ma. He can't…he won't…same thing.'_

_She smiles and strokes his hair, amused by her two most troublesome boys, Bobby, her oldest, Jackie, her youngest. At least she doesn't need to worry over Jeremiah anymore; he never gave her more than a few moments worry. _

'_He loves you. You just need to let him love you.'_

_Jack sighs and feels flickers of guilt. Max…He exhales and clings to Evelyn. He can feel the dream fading and he doesn't want to let go yet. 'He needs me too,' he whispers, thinking of Max._

'_I know, Jackie.' She touches his face and presses a kiss to his forehead. 'I love you.'_

_He tells her he loves her even as the dream falls away, even as he's dragged back down to where it hurts, where he can hear machines beeping, where he can feel suffering all around him…_

Jack opened his eyes, squinting in the light of his room. He could see the medical equipment around him and the monitors that beeped to his side. He sighed and shifted, feeling immediate spikes of pain run up and down his body. He gasped, the machine to his right beeping frantically.

"Easy there, son," a voice told him. "Doing that won't help you much."

He turned his head cautiously to the side and stared at the man who sat beside his bed. He was older, much older than Jack, older than Max. He gave Jack a thin smile and sat back in his chair, his dark eyes evaluating and sizing him up. He had silver and black hair, his face creased with wrinkles. He raised his bushy eyebrows and nodded once.

"Who're you?" Jack managed in an uneven voice.

"I'm someone you need on your side right about now."

Jack gripped the bed sheets in each hand, his throat tightening. "Is that so?"

The man smiled a not so friendly smile and nodded. "Indeed. You are a very interesting young man. Could you tell me how it is you came to be staying in Max's apartment?"

"I could, but that's none of your business," Jack snapped at him. He didn't like this man, not one bit.

"That's where you're wrong. You were found in Max's bedroom, your belongings in the living room and your fingerprints all around the apartment. The police are very interested in why you were there."

Jack gestured to the room around him. "Really," he drawled, "Seems obvious to me."

"As to why you were attacked is also interesting, especially to me," the man said.

"Yeah, me too," Jack glared at him. "You didn't tell me who you are an' unless you're a cop, I've got nothing to say to you."

"B.B. Hensley," he replied, watching Jack closely. "And you?"

Jack looked away. "Jack," he muttered finally. "Where's Max?'

"Max is in another room. We got to you both in time."

Jack rested his head back on his somewhat uncomfortable hospital pillow. He let out a breath, wearied. "What about Alex?"

"The first unit to respond…" B.B. cleared his throat, looking vaguely annoyed. "They weren't able to bring him around. He'd lost far too much blood."

Guilt flooded through and Jack closed his eyes. "That man, that shadow…"

B.B. tapped the bed rail with one hand. "A shadow man, you're going to have to do better than that when the cops come for your report. Max's reputation is on the line. The department thinks he killed Alex."

"That's the dumbest fucking thing I ever heard," Jack said flatly. "Alex was his partner. Max is not a goddamn murderer."

"I repeat, how exactly do you know Max?"

"He _fucks_ me," Jack hissed.

B.B.'s lips curled upwards. "That's…interesting. I had no idea that Max had such inclinations."

"Guess you don't know everything about him, huh?"

"I suppose not." B.B. admitted. "So you've been…associating…with Max for how long now?"

Jack shrugged, though it hurt to do so. New stitches, he figured. "A few weeks, give or take."

"I see," though privately, Jack didn't think this man saw at all. B.B. narrowed his eyes at Jack. "Max can be a bit of a loose wire. His temper can be dangerous and most of the men in the department know about his blaming Alex for the unsolved murders. They think he did it, and frankly, it's going to take more than some shadow man story to clear him."

Jack sat up again, pushing his way off the bed. He yanked at the various cords that were attached to his chest and arms. "I don't give a shit what you think." He tried not to groan as he swung his legs off the bed. "And for that matter, how do you know him, huh? If you knew Max at all, you'd know he'd never hurt Alex!"

"You don't know that at all, Jack."

Jack glared at B.B. He hadn't felt so much anger towards someone like this in a long time. He stood up, a small whimper of pain escaping from his lips. "I know him," he insisted.

"You shouldn't be up and moving right now."

"I don't care. I want to see Max." With as much dignity as he could manage, he held his hospital gown closed and stiffly made his way to the door just as a nurse hurried through the door.

"Mr. Mercer!" she huffed. "What do you think you're doing out of bed?"

Jack tried not to groan. "I'm fine. I want to go see my…" he glanced at B.B. for a split second. "I wanna see Max Payne. What room is he in?"

"You'll do no such thing in this state," she fussed about him, trying to guide him back to bed.

Jack dodged her, using his height to his advantage. "Fine, get me a wheelchair then, but I'm gonna go see him! I need to."

After much fussing and grumbling, Jack got his wish. He was wheeled to Max's room, B.B. not far behind him. Jack gripped the arms of the wheelchair, his chest hitching at the sight of Max lying on the hospital bed.

"Max…" he whispered.

The nurse brought him up beside the bed, clucking in disapproval. "Only a few minutes, Mr. Mercer," she said. "You need to rest."

He ignored her, focusing only on the steady rise and fall of Max's chest. His own hurts were forgotten in the moment of reassuring himself that Max was alive. He rested a hand over Max's, rubbing their fingers together.

Max shifted, his eyes flying open at the touch. He started to sit up but fell back, pain creasing his face. "Jack…"

Jack gave him a lopsided smile. "Hey."

"I thought..." Max rubbed his free hand over his face. He sighed. "I saw you there."

"Hey, you can't keep a Mercer down for long." Jack kept the smile up though he was shaking inwardly. The whole ordeal had been terrifying and he really wanted to freak out but keeping a calm outlook felt more important.

"That's not funny, Jack," Max frowned. "I'm sorry, so sorry this happened to you."

Jack gripped Max's hand. "Don't do that, it's not your fault."

"It is because you were there; because of me…" he trailed off and looked over Jack's shoulder. "B.B…"

"Max," B.B walked over to the bed and took a seat in the chair next to the bed. "You came in here, looking pretty bad. Thank God, you made it through." He placed a light hand on Max's shoulder. "What happened?"

"I don't know…" Max looked away from both Jack and B.B. "It's…Alex?"

B.B. shook his head. "I'm sorry, Max. The unit couldn't…it was too late by then. They were lucky to get you and…" he threw a glance at Jack, "And your friend."

Max sighed slowly. His forehead furrowed and Jack knew he was seeing grief on his face for the loss of his ex-partner. His chest rose and fell for several beats before he looked back at B.B. "I got six shots off. I hit something…or someone. You've gotta check, B.B. The hospital, a John Doe…"

B.B. chuckled and it raised the small hairs on the back of Jack's neck. "I'm not a cop anymore, Max. I came to see about you."

"Alex, he wanted to tell me something. He left me a message at work."

Jack lifted his head, fear beginning to fill him. He'd spoken to Alex about Max's wife. He bit down on his bottom lip. He smoothed his thumb over Max's fingers, much the way Evelyn had done for him countless times before.

"If there's anything you can remember, it'll help," B.B. said, raising his voice a little. "They got nothing for leads; the whole force has you pegged for the prime suspect."

Jack bristled, his lips pulling back in a sneer. "It's bullshit!"

"Hey, you tell them where to find me," Max snapped, rolling his shoulders.

"The wake starts in an hour, I'll pass that along," B.B said, ignoring Jack's outburst.

Max sat up, yanking at his monitoring cords, much the way Jack had.

"What're you doing?" B.B. protested.

"Payin' my respects," Max muttered. He moved stiffly, struggling to sit properly.

"Max…Max, wait," Jack pleaded, grabbing his hand. "This isn't a good idea."

B.B. shook his head. "I hate to say it, but I think your friend might be right."

"I'm going, B.B. That's all there is to it." Max said gruffly. He tugged the bedrail, sliding forward with a wince.

After a moment, he looked back to Jack, who stared down at the tile floor, touching the top of his head gently. "B.B., I need a safe place for Jack."

B.B's lips pursed. "I suppose I can think of a few places, unless you'd rather bring him along."

"Max," Jack tried again.

Max smoothed Jack's hair back from his forehead, a gesture that made his eyes sting. "I don't want anything happening to you, Jack," he murmured. "I…Please do this for me?"

"I'm not gonna sit by an' hope you come back in one piece," Jack looked up at him, willing Max to listen to him. "Look, I'll…I'll go with you, ok?"

Ignoring B.B.'s almost inaudible huff, Max nodded. He ran his thumb over Jack's cheekbone, his mouth turned down by the sight of the colourful bruise on Jack's skin. "Alright," he said reluctantly. "But if I ask you to go someplace after, you will?"

Jack gritted his teeth. Too much like Bobby, he fumed silently. "Yeah, sure…"

X

On the ride over to B.B.'s office suite, Jack kept his teeth clenched. He badly wanted a cigarette but something told him that the older man wouldn't approve of such behaviours. He found a tiny amount of comfort in knowing that Max was sitting close to him, but he also didn't dare reach for him.

Max said nothing on the ride, but that wasn't anything that Jack wasn't accustomed to. His hand was wrapped, unseen bandages under his blood splattered work shirt. Jack fidgeted with his own clothes, feeling a touch stale himself. Though his face was bruised, and his left temple had a bandage on it, he figured he didn't look half bad for a funeral.

His fingers grazed his side, brushing under his leather jacket. His hooded sweater had given him some protection from his assailant, but he'd taken quite a beating, all things considered, he thought with dark humour. He'd required many stitches, ten across his shoulder, a scattering across his left hip and a wound that ran across his right side, one that he hadn't dared look at too closely. That had been the one that would have taken his life, had he been found any later.

Alex had fared much worse, he mused sadly, flexing his stiff fingers and trying to ignore his nicotine cravings. He'd been hacked at too many times to count. Jack shuddered as his mind involuntarily wandered to the sight in the alley way, the multiple sheets every which way covering all the body parts.

Max had gotten off the easiest, compared. A few superficial wounds, his fingers on his right hand wounded, along with several small cuts and a hell of a lot of bruises elsewhere. Jack fingered the pill bottle in his jacket pocket. Thank God for painkillers.

B.B. pulled up beside a series of granite steps that led up to a building of staggering height. Jack couldn't help but gawk up at the enormous office building and he noticed Max looking up, almost startled by the sight of it.

A man stood to the side, politely holding the door for B.B. The three of them started up the steps, mindful of the fresh snow that had fallen. Max shook his head. "When did they move in here?"

"I guess we got the building last year."

Max furrowed his forehead at that. "_We_?"

"Oh sorry," B.B gave a forced laugh. "Gets to be habit after awhile…I haven't filled you in yet. They made me head of security but still pay me like the janitor."

Jack looked up at the massive poster that hung from the ceiling to the floor. He stared, feeling his stomach lurch.

_**Aesir Pharmaceuticals**_

Max's wife, she'd worked for Aesir. He swallowed awkwardly, his throat dry. This was so far from good, he wanted to shout. He drifted closer to Max, feeling even more uneasy. Max nudged his arm a little, guiding him along.

"Jack?" he asked in a near whisper. "You ok?"

"Mhm," Jack lied, forcing a small smile.

B.B escorted them upstairs to his office. Jack closed his eyes in the elevator, trying to ignore how rapidly they were going up. It wasn't that he was afraid of heights per say, more that they made him seriously dizzy.

Jack wandered away from the large glass windows as B.B. spoke to Max, giving him a clean dress shirt to change into. B.B. seemed fine with pretending Jack wasn't there, which suited him as well. He didn't like the man. There was an aura of falseness to him.

He turned to see the wooden desk, a magazine displayed on it. Jack picked it up, skimming through the usual P.R. bullshit that companies put out in their magazines. Towards the end, he froze, gripping the magazine tightly. Staring up at him was Michelle Payne, a beatific smile on her face, information about her scholarship listed underneath.

B.B. glanced over at Jack and frowned. He cleared his throat again and nodded. "Max, I saved that copy for you. They kept coming to me for ideas in her memory. They suggested a scholarship. I guess they figured I was like family. So I said art. She liked art, right?"

Max nodded once, his gaze skimming he magazine Jack still held. "Yeah…"

"So you never said how you know him," Jack blurted, breaking the tense silence.

"I was his father's partner a long time ago, in the NYPD," B.B. said sharply. "That's close enough to family."

Jack let the magazine drop to the desk. He didn't want to hold it a second more.

"It's a good way to remember someone," B.B. added. "Scholarships…"

Max said nothing. Not that Jack had expected him to. Too touchy of a subject, he knew.

X

Jack had never felt such discomfort as when he was at a funeral. While they made their way through the crowd of cops at Alex Balder's home, Jack flashed back to Evelyn's funeral, to the freezing cold of that day, the snow under his boots and the feel of Bobby's hand resting on his lower back. He shivered, feeling sick all over again.

The men stared at Max, whispers following him as he crowds parted to let them through. Jack wanted to take Max's hand but he knew better. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and settled for leaning close to him.

Max slowly walked up to a woman who stood with her back to him, a fragile wisp of a woman with short dark hair. He seemed to be gathering himself, discomfort evident on his face. He paused and then said her name quietly.

"Christa…"

She stiffened and turned at the sound of his voice, a strangled sob catching in her throat. Her hand flashed out and slapped him across the face, the sound horribly loud in the unnatural quiet of the crowded wake.

Jack's eyes flashed angrily and he went to step forward, only to have Max's arm stop him, holding him back a bit. Max looked away, her handprint bright on his cheek. He brought his gaze back, accepting her furious words.

"All it would have taken was one word from you," she said, her hand on his chest, pushing the words at him. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "It would have given Alex some peace. Are you happy now, Max?"

He said nothing, his own eyes gleaming a little, though it disappeared quickly.

"You made him think he hadn't done enough," she studied his face, and then firmed her trembling lips. "What have you done, Max? Except for bring misery to everyone who ever cared for you."

She sniffed once. "Now please get out of my house. Please, just…go."

Jack hissed through his teeth, ready to lunge at her. Max shook his head and guided Jack with him, bringing him back out of the house, B.B. trailing behind them. "Don't, Jack," he sighed. "She's right."

"She had no right, Max, none at all to say that to you!" Jack whispered fiercely. "I don't care if she is grieving."

Max caught Jack's hand in his own, heedless of the cops that were gathered on the front porch. "Trust me when I say she was right. You don't know the whole thing."

B.B. wisely said nothing.

Jack didn't like it but he nodded reluctantly. "Look, I don't think you understand…"

B.B made a sound in his throat. "Ah Jesus, watch out for this prick."

At that, a black car pulled up alongside all the others that were parked on either side of the street. A man got out of the car, a dirty look on his face. "Detective Max Payne?" he asked, eyeing the three of them. "Jim Bravura, Internal Affairs. I need to have a word with you."

"What, now?"

"Yeah," he snapped, "Now."

X


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Chasing Ghosts 9/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

Sitting outside the office of Jim Bravura felt a little too much like sitting outside the principal's office. Jack stared up at the ceiling, trying not to sigh for the third time in a few minutes. He'd spent many a school day, waiting to speak to the principal for some crime, real or imagined. His knee bounced up and down nervously as the minutes stretched on.

"What exactly is Internal Affairs and why are they talkin' to Max?" he finally asked B.B., unable to stay quiet a second longer.

"I wasn't kidding when I said the department thinks Max killed Alex," B.B. nodded at the door separating them from Max. "That girl who was found in pieces next to his apartment, they have him in theory for that as well."

"But…" Jack looked at B.B., bewildered. "How…they can't just _say_ he killed her…right?"

B.B. looked troubled as he nodded. "Yes, they can. Max's wallet was found with the girl. Apparently she'd been seen with him on the night she died."

Oh, that hurt. Jack bit back the unexpected surge of jealousy. "He…He was?"

"Yes, and you can only imagine how that looks right now to the investigators. Are you ready to give them something more solid than some 'shadow man' for your statement?"

Jack huffed out a breath and stared at the door again, willing it to open. He needed another pill and a cigarette in the worst way. His knee bobbed faster.

"He didn't kill her either," he muttered.

"How can you be so sure, hmm?"

"Because I trust him, that's why!" he nearly shouted, and then looked around guiltily at the outburst. "You say you're like family to Max, you should be the last person ready to condemn him!"

"Even if I wasn't as close as I am to Max, I wouldn't let that blind me to the evidence in front of us."

Jack shook his head furiously. "That's crap and you know it. At least we Mercers stick together. It doesn't matter what the fucking cops say, even if one of my brothers had the gun in his damned hand, I'd still side with him."

"And that's what worries me about your…association with Max," B.B. said and Jack hated him all the more right then.

"Really," Jack smirked at him. "Or does it actually worry you because you can't imagine your image of Max fucking a guy like me? He's good at it, you know. I'd say a natural."

Twin spots of anger flared up in B.B's cheeks and he made a series of strangled noises in his throat. "Now you listen here, you little hoodlum…"

The door to the office slammed open then, Max angrily moving through the doorway. "Yeah, and some of that blood is mine," he called over his shoulder. "Good luck with your case," he added sarcastically.

"Let's go, Jack," he said without looking at them as he walked down the hallway.

Jack was up and moving before B.B. seemed to notice what was happening. Jim Bravura stood in the doorway, his face tight with anger. B.B. rose from his bench seat and ambled over to the man, speaking to him quietly.

"Max…" Jack caught up to him easily enough. "That guy back there, B.B…"

"What?"

"He um…" Jack didn't know how to say that he didn't trust the one person closest to a family member that Max still had. "I know you didn't kill Alex and…and that girl."

"Glad someone thinks so," Max muttered.

B.B caught up to them a few steps later, sounding a touch out of breath. "Well, I hope that felt good Max. You succeeded in making yourself look guilty."

Jack sneered at B.B. "Are all you cops that thick headed?"

"Your opinion doesn't stand for much," B.B threw back at him. "Max, I still have some contacts in the departments, but there's only so much I can do for you. You need to calm down and speak to Bravura properly."

Max said nothing, his lips pulled into a tight, grim line. He yanked at his tie, loosening it around his neck. He jabbed the elevator button at the end of the hallway, giving no indication that he'd heard anything that B.B. had spoken to him. Jack stood next to him, exchanging dirty looks with B.B.

As they stepped into the elevator, Max suddenly and abruptly stepped back out, his eyes on the Homicide Sign before the elevator doors. Jack dashed back out, amused by B.B.'s sputtering behind them. Max strode through the hallway, making his way through the rows of cubicles and cops every which way.

"Max," Jack whispered urgently, unnerved by the amount of people glaring at them. "I hope you got a plan going on here."

"I don't have a plan," Max said as he pushed through the growing throngs of angered cops blocking his way. Several people fell in line behind, all but chasing after them.

Jack glanced back over his shoulder, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. He pushed closer to Max, feeling like he pushing against a wall of water. This was all too similar to entering a packed gymnasium, full of people who wanted nothing to do with the likes of Bobby Mercer and his lippy attitude. He tensed, following Max up to a wooden door that had the words Alex Balder written across them.

Max opened the door, pulling Jack with him. Jack grunted, his still fresh stitches protesting the manhandling. Max locked the door behind them and crossed the distance to Alex's desk in only a few strides.

"Max…" Jack stood in front of the door, listening to the furious shouts from the other side. "What the hell are we doing here?"

"Alex wanted to talk; he said there was something similar in Michelle's file and Natasha's."

Jack gritted his teeth. This jealousy thing was starting to bug him. "Natasha's the one in the alley way. What would she have to do with what happened to your wife?"

"I don't fucking know!" Max shouted at him as he ransacked the desk, pulling drawers out and dumping them, searching frantically through the various items. He upturned the pencil holder on the desk, the furrows on his forehead deepening by the second.

He yanked at the bottom drawer at the same time someone shoved at the office door, the person vowing to kick their asses if they didn't get out. Jack leaned on the door, groaning in pain as the door shuddered in its frame.

Max kicked at the desk in time to the kicks at the door. Jack bit his lip, fighting back his instinctive panic at the situation unfolding around them. The cabinet sprang open finally and Max yanked out the top file, rifling through it. He tore a sheet off and crumpled it, stuffing it into his pocket. He flipped through several more pages and froze, staring down at one. He ripped that one out as well and added it to the other one in his pocket.

"Max…" Jack pushed back against the door. "We're runnin' out of time here."

"We're goin'," Max turned and lifted up the window, pushing it up as far as it would go.

Cold wind flooded in and Jack felt his teeth begin to chatter. Max leaned out the window and looked down. He nodded once and looked back at Jack. "C'mon."

"Out the window?" Jack gaped at him, incredulous. "Are you insane?"

"I'm not askin' you, Jack. Go, now!" he gestured at the ledge.

Jack edged away from the door, his heart pounding. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and moved over to Max's side. "Oh Jesus," he croaked. They were more than a few feet off the ground, too high for Jack's comfort.

"Go!" Max pushed at him, "Now!"

Jack trembled with fear but did as he was commanded. At this moment, Max had never sounded more like Bobby and if Bobby instructed Jack to do something, he did it. There were only a few exemptions, he thought inanely as he slid one leg over the ledge. In this case, he took a deep breath and prayed that Evelyn was on his side. He slipped out and jumped, landing on the snowy ground below with only a shock of pain up his legs to show for his efforts.

X

Max said virtually nothing as they ran from the precinct, making their way through the crowded streets. Jack kept up with him, limping a little. He dry swallowed a painkiller, hoping it would kick in soon. Max fisted a hand in Jack's coat and pulled him into an alley way, dodging a pair of beat cops. They stood in an abandoned doorway, sheltered from the falling snow.

Jack breathed shallowly, his jaw tensed. "Is…there a reason we went through all that?"

Max pulled out the crumpled papers, nodding. "Natasha's phone records and a picture," he said. "Natasha had a tattoo of an angel wing, and so did one of the bastards that…" he paused, steeling himself, "One of the guys that killed my wife, the exact same style, in fact."

"Ok," Jack looked at the picture Max held. "Max, oh man…I've seen that before."

"What?" Max stared at him, his eyes wild.

Jack swallowed, the tiniest bit afraid of Max right then. "Um, this guy, he was ranting and ravin' about angels…it was the night I bumped my head. He shoved his arm in my face and he had this kind of wing tattoo on his forearm."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Max hissed at him.

"I…I was drunk that night…" Jack mumbled, looking down at the snowy ground. "I was gonna tell you…"

Max put the photo back into his pocket, anger tightening his face anew. "That's great, Jack, just great. What else haven't you told me?"

"N-Nothing!" Jack protested.

"Why should I believe you now?"

Jack recoiled from him. "Max…I-I swear, I'm not lying."

"Uh huh," Max scoffed. He made a fist and slammed it against the door, knocking snow loose from the frame. "This is something, Jack. For once, I have something to go on. Alex was trying to tell me about a connection!"

Jack said nothing. He kicked at the snow, trying to swallow the hurt he felt.

Max smoothed out the other paper, reading through it slowly. "Natasha's phone records," he murmured. "Her last two calls were to someone named Owen Green."

"Right," Jack dug in his jacket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He shook the last one out and lit it, his fingers shaking ever so slightly. As he smoked, Max seemed lost in his thoughts. He wanted to shout at Max and demand he apologize for not trusting him.

But this was Max, the closest thing he had to Bobby right now. And Bobby wouldn't have apologized if he felt Jack hadn't trusted him. That was for damn sure. He wasn't big on forgiveness, only in the rarest of occasions.

Max folded the paper and marched down the alley way. No doubt, he expected Jack to fall into line behind him, he mused bitterly. Jack sighed and did so, enjoying his cigarette. He wasn't sure if he had enough balls to ask Max to buy him another as he was currently out of money.

As he smoked, he trudged through the snow, wishing vainly that he'd chosen a warmer climate to travel to. The painkiller had begun to kick in and that made everything easier to endure. Max stopped at a payphone and made a quick call, leaving Jack to wait outside the phone booth.

"We're going to meet up with B.B in an hour," Max said in Jack's direction as he exited the booth.

Jack nodded, sadly extinguishing the last of his cigarette. "Max, I'm sorry about before, I was gonna tell you, I swear it."

Max finally met his eyes, apparently seeing what he wanted to because his lips twitched.

"It's alright, Jack."

"How did you know this woman…Natasha?"

Max exhaled heavily. "I went to see my old snitch for information on some junkies. They were the sort that would have pulled the robbery at the house. He was having a loft party and she was there. I saw the tattoo and thought it was unusual. I saw her and several other people acting suspicious in a back room. She was going to tell me what I wanted to know so I brought her back home with me."

Jack took a step away from Max, indignant for a moment. "You brought some random woman back to your apartment on a whim and a prayer?"

"I brought some random guy home with me, didn't I?" Max snapped.

"So, what then? You fucked her an' sent her off to be sliced and diced?"

Max took a big step forward, crowding Jack back against the phone booth. "I did not _fuck her_, Jack. I kicked her ass out when she tried to convince me to have sex with her. She stole my wallet! So there's your story, ok? Is that jealousy I see written all over your face?"

Jack wanted to spit at him. "Fuck you! You should've let her do you, Max. Then you'd of gotten your money's worth when the bitch stole your wallet!"

And if he'd wanted to say precisely the wrong thing to piss Max off, that had been it. Max's mouth tightened and a furious look passed over his face. "So that's it then? You don't care if I have sex with someone else? Gee, and here I was thinking we had a little something."

"You think I care? You think you're the first older guy I hooked up with out of necessity?" Jack gave him a fake, nasty laugh. "Please…I don't give a shit about who or what you fuck. And you know what else? I'm outta here."

"Jack, Jack, wait!" Max reached for him, only to have Jack shove at him.

"I don't need you, Max Payne, I told you that before. I can take of myself!"

"Bullshit you can!" Max shouted and grabbed Jack's arm tightly and steering him down the sidewalk against his will. "You need someone to keep you in line obviously."

Jack struggled but really, in his injured state, he was in no shape to be fighting. He let out a sound of pain, his side aching horribly. Max stopped, realization kicking in. He put a hand to Jack's side, stopping him from moving.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he swore, worry clouding his eyes. "Jack…Damn it, I'm sorry."

Jack bit the tip of his tongue, blinking back tears. "Forget about it."

Max groaned softly and gentled his grip on Jack's arm. "I didn't mean to get rough and…and I wouldn't have slept with her anyway. She wasn't my type."

"Would she have been if you weren't currently dabbling in fucking a guy?"

Max winced at Jack's phrasing. "Christ, Jack, I don't think of it like that."

"Clearly," Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or scream. "Where are we meeting him?" he asked, changing the subject. Fighting left him feeling wearied and he'd never been a fan of it. In fact, when it came to fight or flight, he still instinctively wanted to run most of the time.

"At the Citizen," Max said after a moment of watching Jack's face. "It's a bar."

"Super," Jack tugged his arm away from Max. He did his best not to shake, but goddamn it, he wanted to. He hated being manhandled. He'd only ever been ok with someone pulling him around when that someone had been Bobby.

"It's this way," Max said, nodding his head to the direction they needed to go. "We'll stop at the apartment for a change of clothes first."

X

They passed right through the bar, Max stopping only long enough to speak with the bartender. Jack followed Max glumly, away from the meagre heat of the bar and back into the snow. They stood in the alley behind the bar, still more snow falling in slow drifts around them.

Max paced in a wide circle, unable to calm down. Jack had never seen him so wound up.

Jack allowed himself a petulant sigh and leaned back against a stack of wooden crates. "I wonder why that woman had the same tattoo as a junkie," he mused out loud.

"Because they're connected in some way," Max muttered, pacing another circle.

"Well yeah, but I mean, did she look like a junkie?"

Max snorted at that. "No."

"Was she high?"

Max paused for a second, looking at Jack. "I think so. I saw her in that back room, she had this vial in her hand…I couldn't see exactly what it was."

Jack nodded. He rubbed his tongue stud against his teeth, thinking fast. "She was high then, so that means she had a dealer, most likely. I'd bet that's who Owen Green is. And this might be a _new_ drug, some fancy one. 'Cause if the junkies like the ones I saw have access to it, then that means it's out an' about, not just for people with money."

"You're thinking she was on the same drug?"

Jack nodded hesitantly. "Maybe," he hedged. "Maybe not, the junkies were like…tweaking, you know? If she wasn't, then she'd of had a hit before you guys left together. I bet it wouldn't last too long. It'd have to be strong as fuck to leave you tweakin' on that level."

"Do I dare ask how you have such knowledge of street drugs?"

Jack's cheeks burned and he resumed staring anywhere but at Max. "Not important…"

"I bet." Max looked more than a little annoyed and Jack felt his eyes sting. He wasn't proud of his background but he wouldn't apologize for it.

They lapsed into silence as they waited, nothing but the sound of snowflakes falling between them. After an indeterminable wait, the back door to the bar finally opened. B.B. stepped through, shaking his head at Max.

"Oh, for God's sake, Max," he gestured around the alley way as Max wheeled around to stare at him, breathing hard. "You're going to freeze to death out here."

Jack tried not to shiver. He was freezing but he figured Max was too far gone in his worked up anger to feel the cold.

"Alex knew something about Michelle," Max said, "Something new."

"New?" B.B. looked doubtfully at him. "Don't you think he would have told you if he had?"

"He was tryin' to!" Max shouted. "The night he was killed, whatever was in the apartment with us was trying to make sure he couldn't tell me!"

"What exactly do you think you're looking for, Max? You've got bigger things to worry about right now, like reporting back, not chasing phantom leads."

Jack slipped off the crates and moved closer to Max as he pushed away from B.B.

"You know what, forget about it!" Max snarled at him. He walked out of the alley, his breath coming in fast pants, wisps floating up.

B.B. shook his head at Jack. "You could at least try and talk some sense into him, young man."

"I don't control him any better than you do." With that, Jack turned on his heel, jogging until he caught up with Max.

X

Max cut a wide swath through the snowy ground until he'd reached the sidewalk. Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets, as cold as he'd ever been right then. "Max, this is um…a sketchy kind of area," he said carefully.

"This is the kind of place I need to be right now." Max stopped in his tracks. "Jack, you should go back to the apartment. This isn't something you need to be involved in."

"I'm not thrilled about all this but I'll be damned if I'll be left back like a little boy, Max!"

"I don't want you getting hurt," Max looked up at Jack, a glimmer of something in his eyes before he blinked it away, so quick that Jack barely saw it. "I can't stand the idea."

Jack leaned in and kissed Max, silencing his fears. "I'll be ok," he whispered as the kiss ended, his lips brushing over Max's. "I've been through worse and you could use some help."

Max sighed and gave a tense nod. "Fine…"

Jack smiled slightly. "You already involved me when we jumped out that window."

Max looked over Jack's shoulder, frowning at the trio of men that were walking opposite them, across the street. "C'mere," he said under his breath to Jack. He nudged Jack into the nearest alley and pulled a gun from under his coat.

He cocked it, keeping Jack a step or so behind him. "Someone's following us."

Jack felt his stomach clench. This was the part he hated. He nodded and moved with Max down the alley, backing up, both their gazes at the opening of the alley way. Jack took two steps back and out of the corner of his eye, saw a blur of black to his left. He opened his mouth to warn Max, only to see a very large, very dangerous looking gun slide into view.

"Drop your weapon."

X


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Chasing Ghosts 10/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

"Drop your weapon."

There was a split second where Jack thought he might actually laugh when the horrible looking gun slid into view. It would have been a hysterical laugh, one well tinged with terror. One glance at this gun told him how much he wasn't prepared to feel the bullets piercing his skin and he could _literally_ hear Bobby's commentary about guns and ammo and power running through his ears.

He tried to swallow but his throat was bone dry. No whisper of warning issued from his mouth and as Max heard the command, no change of expression occurred other than the same wary one he'd worn until that second. Max held still, his gaze sliding to the side to gauge how close the gun was to them.

"Take it easy," Max said, and to Jack, he actually sounded calm.

"Drop your weapon," the voice commanded again.

Jack turned his head an inch or so. More than a foot shorter than him was a woman, one clad entirely in black, a severe look to her pretty face and the gun resting securely in her hands, still pointing at them. The urge to laugh wildly gave Jack a tremor. That someone so tiny could be his murderer was almost comical.

Max lowered his gun to the ground slowly, his other hand in the air in the ultimate sign of surrender. "It's on the ground, how 'bout you lower yours?"

"Remove your back piece with your left hand," she said instead.

Max let a moment pass and grudgingly, he did so, letting that one drop to the ground with a muted thud. "That's it."

"Kneel down."

Max blinked and turned his head, surprise wiping away his wariness. "What?"

"Kneel the fuck down!" she snapped, pushing the gun at Jack, almost touching his side.

A bullet that close would pierce his ribcage easily, Jack's brain screamed at him, puncture a lung, maybe his heart, oh God, please not this way…Jack knelt down as Max did, his chest hitching with shallow breaths. Where was Bobby and his merciless ways when he needed him?

Max put both hands behind his head and Jack did so as well. The snow bit into his jeans, soaking through to his already chilled skin. What a fine way to get pneumonia, he thought as their assailant walked around in front of them, her long dark hair flapping in the wind.

"We need to talk about my _sister_," she all but spat and Jack saw, to his horror, recognition on Max's face finally. She had one hand behind her back and she whipped it forward, bringing something long down, something that made a painful sound as she connected it and brought it across Max's face.

He went with the blow, leaning down into the snow. He let out a sharp breath and knelt back up, slightly in front of Jack this time. Jack could only breathe; he felt nothing beyond self protective surges that kept him motionless. He couldn't help Max, not without a weapon, not up against this tiny woman who seemed hellbent on revenge.

"Look," Max panted. "My partner was killed too; we're lookin' for the same person."

"Yeah," she widened her eyes at him, fury flooding her face. "You…"

She brought the stick back again, slapping him harder and sending him down in the opposite direction. Max grunted with pain as he knelt up once more. He spat blood onto the snow, breathing harder. A bloody gash on the side of his right temple gleamed in the dim light of the alley.

"Who's Owen Green?"

She stared at him. "How'd you get that name?"

"Natasha called him," he started to say only to stop as she tried to slap at him. He reached up fast and caught the stick, halting her movement.

"Don't say her name!" she hissed.

"I heard her call him, ok," Max said. He kept one hand up, the other on her weapon. "Owen's probably the last person who saw her alive."

"Except for the guy who was stupid enough to leave his wallet by her body," she pointed her gun at Max's forehead, her finger far too close to the trigger.

"Does that sound like something a Homicide cop would do?" Max shot back. "That's not something we'd get wrong. Look, whoever killed your sister, killed my partner too and maybe…" he paused and trailed off.

"If you wanna help, then help me find Owen Green."

Max let go of the long black stick and pushed it back at her, daring her to strike him. She seemed to be studying him, her eyes as dark as her hair. She lifted her gun back, her gaze shifting to Jack.

"Who's he?"

Max stood, still facing her. "He's…he's with me."

"Why?"

"Does that matter?"

She glared at Max and then back at Jack. "Get up," she gestured with her gun.

Jack rose, hating the fact that his legs were slightly trembling. Unlike Bobby, Jack hadn't learned to stay cool in situations like this. He tried his best to channel everything he'd learned and tilted his chin up, his eyes narrowing down at her. Not afraid, no ma'am, he tried to project.

"What are you, some kind of Boy Wonder?"

"I'm just here for take your kid to work day," he sneered at her, willing his body to stop trembling.

"Funny," she muttered, clearly not amused. "With a mouth like that, you could end up in a lot of pain. You," she pointed at Max. "He's your liability. You know what I do for a living. You cross me, he's eating this gun."

X

Jack's knee bounced during the endless drive to Owen Green's apartment. He sat in the back of the car, much to his annoyance. He didn't protest as it was hardly the first time he'd been stuck in the back seat despite the cramped space against his long legs. Bobby's car had been a two door and more often than not, Jack had been required to sit in the back if anyone else was in the car with him and Bobby.

Almost as if he hadn't wanted anyone to know what went on in the front seat when it was only the two of them, he mused with a faint smile. The smile faded away as the reality of what was happening started to sink in. He hadn't been any good in these situations the year before and now here he was, stuck in a car with a Russian assassin for hire and Max.

His knee bounced faster. If Bobby were here, he thought for not the first time that evening, he would have taken this little woman down and forced her to spill what she knew. Jack had absolute faith in Bobby's abilities, but Max, Jack shook his head silently. He seemed to have issues fighting back against a woman.

He felt another flicker of amusement, thinking of how often Bobby and Sofi, Angel's on and off again girlfriend, had nearly come to blows, scrapping with each other in the house. Not that Bobby would have _physically_ hurt her without damn good reason, he amended. Bobby wasn't a woman beater, but he'd be damned if he'd let some female put a gun in his face.

Max drove as their companion gave directions, finally pulling up alongside a long, rusted fence that surrounded a decaying several stories high apartment building. Jack wrinkled his nose at the sight of it. He half expected to see a sign condemning the property. Max turned the engine off, silence in the car as all three of them looked out the windows at the building.

"Owen's flop is on the top floor," Mona said, breaking the heavy silence. "Don't fuck this up for me, Max."

Jack wanted to belt her one at that. He'd been given her name by Max when they'd initially gotten into the car. Mona Sax was Natasha's sister, and by the sounds of it, far more dangerous than one could imagine. He disliked her merely on the principle that if not for her sister, they wouldn't be sitting outside a junkie drug dealer's scary ass apartment building.

"Stay in the car, Jack," was the only thing Max said in his direction.

"Like fuck I will," he sputtered. "I'm not a guard dog."

Mona looked back at him over her shoulder, coldly amused. "You got a weapon?"

Well, shit. Jack paused, thinking of his meagre switch blade. "Um, not a gun exactly," he said.

She smirked. "So, guard the car then."

"Max, you're not serious!"

"You don't have a gun, I'm sure as hell not giving you one, and I need a lookout," Max reasoned with him, meeting his eyes in the rear view mirror.

Jack bit his tongue until it hurt, fighting to keep all his angry words under control and losing badly at his attempt. "This is bullshit and you know it! How do you know she won't turn on you when you get in there, huh? You don't! How do you know that this isn't some trap?"

Mona merely glared at Jack. "How do I know you don't have a weapon to use when I turn my back on you?"

"I'm not some hired killer, that's how!"

"Jack," Max said quietly. "Please…I can't take the risk of bringing you in this kind of place. I know I already involved you, but please…do this for me? Stay here where you're safer."

Oh goddamn them both, Jack swore mentally. "Fine," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest angrily.

Max looked almost relieved when Jack crossed his arms. "Stay here, don't leave the car. If anythin' happens, lock the doors. I'll be right back, I promise."

Jack rolled his eyes and said nothing. Sure, that'd be safe, only if the windshield was bulletproof. He fingered the edge of his inner jacket pocket, the small bulge where his knife rested. Some things never fucking changed, he fumed.

Max exhaled when Jack ignored him. He got out of the car and closed the door behind him. Mona exited as well, the locks shutting down as Max walked away. Jack blinked a few times, not quite sure if he believed what was happening. He fisted his hands, beyond annoyed.

'…_Here, you carry the gas can…'_

'_We're gonna do that gas thing?'_

'_Yeah, we're gonna do the 'gas' thing. The only thing that scares people more than getting burnt to death is getting eaten alive. Let's go.'_

'_Wait, what do I get?'_

'_You coming with us? Oh…take the crowbar. Here you go, sweetheart, poke 'em with that.'_

'_Thanks.'_

'_Your welcome…'_

Jack let out a soft bittersweet laugh. Even Bobby hadn't trusted him for more than being a lookout, a helper, but not to be trusted with real weapons. He'd known that Jack was a poor shot at best. He leaned down, resting his head on his knees, smiling weakly.

If he tried hard enough, he could remember what it felt like that night, assisting Bobby and his brothers in getting information from a young thug about their mother's murder. Bobby had looked at him with that gleam in his eyes and Jack had known what to expect after that evening's activities were said and done.

Bobby's fingers gripping his sides, pulling him down to the bed, the burn of his facial hair scratching Jack's skin until he felt like he was burning with him, burning and caught in his fire…Jack let out a shaky breath, his stomach coiling with fear and desire, much like it always did when it came to a force of nature like Bobby.

He tried counting to a hundred but kept forgetting his place somewhere around forty. He tried singing to himself, a trick that always helped before. It felt like forever since Max and Mona had left him behind. To be some kind of lookout, what a fucking joke, he thought, staring out the windshield. What was there to see besides snow?

Jack drummed on his knee, trying to ignore the beads of sweat gathering along his temples. Sitting here like a duck, waiting to be hunted…Jack fisted his hands with renewed anger. He closed his eyes and waited, listening to the sound of his breathing in the emptiness of the car.

There was a bolt, a shock of sound that made Jack's spine stiffen. A sound too familiar, too terrifying to ignore, the sound of flapping echoing through the night…Jack stared out the window, too afraid to let out another breath.

"No…no fucking way," he choked out.

Without stopping to think about what he was doing, Jack fumbled with the lock on the passenger door, shoving it up and opening the door, the flapping sound echoing once more in the still night. Snowflakes fell on Jack, coating him with icy cold drops. He stared up at the building, his heart pounding far too hard for the second time that night.

He moved without any idea he was doing so, drawn by the sound high above. Jack followed the footprints that Max had left in the snow, creeping closer to the building. He thought he could faintly hear Max shouting but above that sound was the steady _flap…flap…_the ungodly flapping of a shadow high, higher than the brick structure before him.

Jack stood before the rows of windows that lined one side of the building. He shuddered to see the back of a man hanging out of the top floor, right where the window frame opened to the outside, the bricks tumbling and broken away from the mortar. The man was screaming, a screaming that made Jack want to shriek alongside with him.

He was gripping the sides, staring back into the room. His screams tapered off for a brief moment and Jack could just barely hear Max over the flapping. He couldn't see anything but the man clinging to the bricks, his back arching out, as if he was being dragged from behind by some invisible force.

Jack let out a strangled sob as the man was pulled, screaming into the night, from the window, his body hovering in the air. He blinked and the man was falling, _falling_ down and crashing into the husk of an abandoned car. Glass shattered, the car flattened under the weight of the man and Jack clamped both hands over his mouth, smothering his instinctive urge to scream.

The man's broken, lifeless body lay on the car, his eyes still wide with terror, even in death. Jack lifted his head long enough to see Max leaning out the window, Mona at his shoulder, one gloved hand over her mouth.

Jack shuddered. He could still hear the wings flapping overhead.

X

"Damn it, Jack! I told you to stay in the car!" Max shouted as he came out the front door of the building.

Jack gripped his sides with chilled fingers, his eyes frozen wide with unblinking fear. "I heard them…I heard the wings," he whispered to no one in particular. He couldn't move, couldn't stop staring at the remains of the man who'd died before him.

All he could see, beyond this man, was the mess of a crashed car a year before, Angel yanking one wounded shooter from the twisted metal wreck, Bobby removing the other, and the two of them ceremoniously executing the men who'd taken Evelyn's life days before.

He shook in the cold air, his throat working uselessly. Bobby had grabbed him, dragging him back to the near wreck of Bobby's own car, his fingers an iron grip on Jack's arm, his excited breaths echoing near Jack's ear. They'd killed the shooters without a second thought, had pulled the triggers with satisfaction, while Jack had stood behind them, shocked to the core.

"Jack!"

He made a sound and jumped, dragged from his memories with a start. "Max…"

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Max demanded.

"I heard the wings," he mumbled distractedly. "That…" he pointed to the car, "Was that him?"

Max looked Jack over, his eyebrows lifting up at Jack's words. "Yeah, Owen jumped."

"He didn't jump," Jack turned away, gazing at the gaping window ledge. "He was pulled."

Mona and Max exchanged looks of concern. "Jack, he wasn't…Owen jumped," Mona said with a hint of sadness. "We saw him."

Jack shook his head and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, almost numb from the cold. "I know what I saw."

"Jack…" Max reached for his arm but Jack dodged the attempt, stepping away from him easily enough.

"No."

Mona moved between the two of them. "It doesn't matter, ok? That's not what's important right now."

Max said nothing for a long moment. He walked to the car, Mona following behind him. Jack took a step in their direction, feeling eyes on the back of his neck. A laugh gathered in his throat and died, choked down by his bitter grief.

When the three of them reached the car, Max smacked his fist off the side door, the sound swallowed by the deafening silence around them, nothing but burnt out buildings and random cars surrounding them. "He had a wing tattoo. They've all had wing tattoos."

"So?" Mona frowned at Max. "What's your point? Lots of people have tattoos."

Jack closed his eyes. He knew exactly how many beads were inked into Bobby's skin, a life size rosary that he'd had put on years before. He'd run his fingers over them while Bobby slept far too many times, praying for something he couldn't have each time.

Max stole a glance at Jack, a hint of colour staining his cheeks. He'd been more than a little interested in touching Jack's various tattoos when he'd held him in bed. He shrugged, forcing his gaze away from Jack. "Owen's flop was covered in wing graffiti, all these deaths, they _all_ have them, Mona, even the ones that killed my…my wife."

"And lots of people have a thing for angels," she insisted stubbornly. "How many girls have you seen with angel wings on their backs?"

"They take them up in their wings," Jack murmured, unaware of the dual stares on him right then. He rubbed his face tiredly and then blinked, seeing the two sets of astonished eyes. "What?"

"Owen said that," Max pounced first, his eyes widening. "Right before he jumped."

Jack licked his lips. "Um…ok," he managed. "A junkie said that to me before, remember? I told you that he put his arm in my face. He uh…he had one of those wing tattoos too."

Mona cocked her head at Jack, considering him before turning to look at Max. "Looks like this guy is more interesting than I thought," she said with an unfriendly smile.

X


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Chasing Ghosts 11/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

"It's not anything new, people jump out of windows all the time," Mona said as Max drove, her gaze firmly fixed out the window. "It just happens."

"He was pulled," Jack muttered from the back seat.

She sniffed in disbelief. "You really think that? You weren't upstairs with us, Jack. We saw him, you only saw him fall."

"Whatever."

Max tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Where'd Natasha go for her tattoo?"

Mona's jaw clenched for a moment before she grudgingly gave him the address. Max made excellent time pushing through the slushy snow on the side streets, and clearing a path through the newly fallen snow. He stopped the car outside a back street shop sign that was posted next to a staircase leading down.

"She got all her work done here."

Jack hid a slight smile. Now this was familiar territory. Shops like this he'd spent more than a little time in over the years. He slipped out of the car and was the first down the stairs, ignoring the protest from Max as he opened the door to the tattoo parlour.

The bell over the door jingled and the man sitting beyond the counter looked up in surprise. The room was as gritty as Jack expected and he strode up to the counter top and leaned in, reaching for the nearest binder of photos. He flipped through them while Max and Mona stepped up to his side.

The man at the counter regarded Max with deserved suspicion. Everything about Max screamed 'cop'.

"Can I help you with somethin'?"

"Yeah," Jack pointed to a picture of a tattoo similar to the one he'd seen on the junkie that had accosted him. "If I wanted to get somethin' like this one…You do these types here?"

Mona looked around Jack's arm, peering at the photo. "What's it mean?"

The man stared up at them, tattooed and worn looking, his longish faded black hair pulled back in a careless ponytail. He gazed at each of them and then looked back at Jack, clearly more comfortable talking to him.

"That's a Norse Valkryie," he said, a touch uneasily. "Vikings used to wear them for protection."

Max looked unconvinced and the man pressed on.

"Valkryies fly over the battlefield, pickin' out the righteous dead. See, they reward the people who draw first blood, like a _soldiers'_ angel."

He reached for a heavy book that sat off to one side of the counter and opened it, paging through until he found what he was looking for. "In Norse mythology, the only way you get to go to Heaven is to die in violence. You die in your sleep, you go to Hell."

He pointed to a picture in the book and Jack felt his breath catch at the sight of the wings on the cruel looking angel hovering over the body of a fallen Viking. He tried not to shudder. He knew what those wings sounded like, he thought absently.

"It's protection from what?" Max probed.

The man paused and sat back on his high stool. "Huh?"

"What do you mean, 'huh'? You said people get these tattoos as protection. What are they afraid of?"

Jack traced the edge of the picture in the book with his finger. "If they have them, they're safe, as long as they're the first to kill," he whispered, "They're afraid of goin' to Hell, Max."

"Got that right, kid," The man met Jack's eyes, a scared gleam in his own. He closed the book, narrowly avoiding Jack's finger as it slammed shut. "You want ink or not?"

X

Jack rested against the seat in the car, his eyes closed. He felt so wearied, yet so awake, almost as if he was dreaming that he was running through a wild night, fleeing the shadows. Mona and Max were arguing quietly in the front seats, debating where to head. Jack cracked an eye open and looked out the window. Somewhere Bobby was thinking of him, he thought distantly.

Angels were real and if these ones were vengeful, deadly ones, then no one was ever truly safe. Jack shuddered a little. His Ma was an angel by now, he knew that much for certain. No one like her could ever end up in Hell, regardless of how she'd died. Even if she'd been allowed to go in her sleep years from now like she should have, she still would have gone to Heaven; he bit his lip, blinking to keep the few tears that prickled at bay.

His Ma had helped save him when the bullets had come, had protected him until Bobby had come running, gun in hand. She'd shielded many of the bullets, he believed, holding him until he was safe, until his brothers had killed every last gun man. Jack rubbed his hand over his shoulder, patting the spot through his jacket. Bobby had been kinder to him during his recovery than he could ever recall him being before.

Too bad it hadn't lasted.

Mona shook her head impatiently, the argument coming to an abrupt end. "He's a contact, he's someone I can ask, but there's no possible way I can bring either of you in there, Max."

"Assassin's code, is it?" Max gave new levels to sarcasm, Jack noted.

"Something like that," Mona glared at him pointedly. "You're the last person who'd be able to walk in through the front door without having a gun shoved down your throat."

"Perfect," Max started the car and drove, his frown growing deeper by the second.

Jack watched the skyline as the car moved through the night. Small points of light came from the towering buildings that filled the sidewalks downtown. He stifled a yawn half-heartedly, wishing he was back in Max's bed. No good came from running around like this, he knew.

Max slowed the car when he reached a side street that led to a harbour docking side. Long warehouses were built here and there, crates and barrels and tires were piled to the sides, boats in the water and trucks parked alongside the buildings. They stopped halfway down the laneway on the dock and Mona nodded.

"Here, let me out here and then go. I'll get in contact with you later."

Max nodded silently, watching her leave. He waited until the door closed before looking over his shoulder at Jack. "You need to get some sleep."

"You're not lookin' daisy fresh yourself, Max."

"Don't worry about me. I don't need a lot of sleep to begin with."

Jack rubbed a tired hand over his face. Max, as exhausted as he looked, his eyes were still feverishly bright. The look of determination left scars like that. Jack sighed into his fingers, giving in to the need for rest.

"Alright…but only if you get some sleep too," he said.

Max grunted. "I need to make a stop first."

"Mhm," Jack nodded, closing his eyes once more. He drifted off to sleep within seconds, his fatigued body sinking back into the seat. He dimly heard the engine start again and as the car moved, he had the comforting feeling of being rocked in the darkness.

X

Jack awoke with a start when he heard the car door shut. He blinked and scrubbed at his face quickly, struggling to bring his attention to what was happening. In the distance, Max was outside the car, trudging through the snow. He'd parked beside a fence that guarded a row of storage units and was kneeling down in front of one, fiddling with the lock.

With a sigh, Jack emerged from the relative warmth of the car and followed Max's footsteps. "Your locker, I presume," he said when he reached the same spot.

"Yeah," Max undid the lock and pulled the door open to reveal a long, dark corridor. He reached inside and flipped a switch, harsh fluorescent lighting flooding the compartment.

Jack squinted, surprised to see row upon row of shelves, each filled with white boxes. Each box was painstakingly labelled neatly. He read a few as he followed Max, noting the precision taken with each box.

**Kitchen…Nursery…Bedroom…Michelle's Home Office…**

Max stopped in front of the one labelled for Michelle. He tugged it off the shelf and carried it in both hands over to the table that ran a good length along the wall. He pulled the box lid off and rummaged through the contents, his movements a great deal gentler than when he'd ransacked Alex's office, looking for paperwork.

"Max…Um, this may sound dumb, but what are we doing here?"

"I don't know," Max lifted out several folders and scowled when he saw they were empty.

"Then why…" Jack trailed off when he saw the logo on the top folder. "Max…she worked at that Aesir place, right?"

Max nodded, digging deeper into the box. He threw the box back with a growl of frustration. "So?"

Jack scooped up the top folder and ran his thumb over the logo printed on it. The words Aesir Pharmaceuticals were wrapped with an image of a feather wing. He shivered, a cold chill running down his back. "This is fucking insane, man."

"A wing," Max touched his thumb to the folder then, tracing the movement Jack had made. "Goddamn it."

"Why are all these folders empty?"

Max grabbed the lid from the table and slapped it back down on the box, keeping the folder that Jack was holding, out. "I don't know that either. Everything of hers was gathered up by that supervisor of hers, Colvin something."

Jack handed the folder back to Max, uneasy. "Someone went to the trouble of hiding her stuff and there's a fucking wing on this folder. I'd say there's something goin' on at Aesir, Max."

"Takes them up in their wings," Max mumbled, almost to himself. He put the box back on the shelf and walked out, the folder rolled up in one hand. Jack followed him, eager to leave the cold storage room.

Max said nothing on the drive back to his apartment and for that, Jack was grateful. He was far too tired to keep up his side of a conversation. He stripped his coat and boots off with clumsy fingers, leaving them by the door. He heard the sound of Max's sigh and almost smiled. Max hated messes. Undoubtedly, he was hanging Jack's coat up and putting his boots away.

Jack all but fell onto Max's bed with a winded sigh. He pushed off his clothes impatiently and squirmed under the sheets. The apartment itself was still in disarray from the police and crime scene workers that had combed over every inch of every room. He was merely grateful that he'd been allowed to keep the few belongings he possessed and that his guitar had not been torn apart in their search for clues.

"Jack," Max said quietly as he sat on the edge of the bed.

He opened one eye a little and peered at Max, who was still dressed.

"I'm sorry about all this," he lifted a hand, letting it hover over Jack's lower back. He seemed to be hesitating and Jack felt a flicker of humour at that. Max was oddly reserved in some ways; in ways that made Jack inevitably compare him to Bobby.

"Don't be," Jack whispered sleepily. "I said I'd be here for you. I ain't going anywhere."

"You should." Max let his hand come to rest on Jack, rubbing a slow circle along his spine.

Jack groaned a little, moving into the touch. He felt stiff and sore all over. "You want me to go?"

Max shook his head, his gaze moving over Jack's skin greedily. "No…"

"Then stop trying to make me leave. You're not a bad guy, Max; I don't give a shit what Alex's wife said. You're not that person."

Max made a sound deep in his throat, one that had Jack open his other eye and look up at him. He could see such misery and unhappiness in Max's face, such suffering that his heart ached for him. Could someone fix such brokenness in another, he wondered sadly.

Was it even possible?

"You don't know me well enough to say that, Jack."

"I know what I've seen," Jack shifted onto his side, the moonlight spilling through the window, casting shadows on the both of them. "You're not cruel."

Max stared past Jack. "Not to you. I don't think I could be to you. Jack…I feel too much for you, and that scares me, ok? Anyone I ever cared about…they're gone now. I can't keep dragging you along in this. It's too risky."

"I know you won't hurt me. I'm not afraid of you, Max," Jack gave him a small smile. It was true, for the most part. He felt some fear at the idea of Max loving him. "Besides, whatever the hell is going on in this city, I'm sure they know that I'm here with you."

Max looked all the more troubled by that, by the reminder of the assault on Jack. "That never should have happened to you," he whispered, his voice tight. "This was supposed to be somewhere safe for you to be in the city. And now you're wounded and chasing after me."

"I'm chasing my own ghosts, Max," Jack murmured, thinking of the night he'd fled Evelyn's house. "I made the choice to come here, you didn't force me. And you need my help, even if it's only for lookouts."

Max only sighed and resumed stroking along Jack's spine, careful to avoid coming too close to the still healing wound on Jack's side. "You left your city, you wander from place to place but you didn't say why. You avoided the question."

Jack shrugged. He hugged the pillow with one arm, cradling it close. "Does it really matter? Some people…" he thought of Evelyn and what she'd told him years before during one painful phone call he'd made to her when he'd run away the very first time from her house. "Some people were born to wander. Itchy feet when they stay put too long."

"Or maybe you're running from someone."

Jack swallowed over the lump in his throat. "Maybe…" he admitted.

Max stroked and stroked, seemingly content to touch Jack's skin and find a hint of peace in doing so. Jack felt his eyes droop with exhaustion and as he fell into sleep, he felt a deep longing for home, the only place that had ever felt like home until she'd died. He had a second to wonder if Bobby was still there or if he'd fled too before sleep overcame him.

X


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Chasing Ghosts 12/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

If Max had slept at all, Jack didn't see any signs of it. He woke to the sound of the Max's footsteps in the kitchen, making coffee, he assumed. Jack resisted the urge to bury his head back under the blankets and demand a few more hours of sleep. He hadn't slept well, his dreams fraught with fears and the feeling of being chased, of shadows that wanted to hurt him and the longing for anything familiar from home.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, blinking away the fuzziness of a poor rest. The smell of coffee was a powerful lure, he knew. Jack crept out of the blankets and shivered in the cool morning air. Max seemed to have an aversion to properly heating the apartment, leaving Jack to scramble to put his warmest clothes on each day.

With a quick sigh, Jack tugged on his heaviest sweatshirt and pulled the hood over his hair, too tired to do anything with styling it right then. He made his way to the kitchen and accepted the mug that Max held out for him. He mumbled something in the vicinity of 'thank you' and sat on the kitchen stool, hunched over as he drank the much needed coffee.

Max looked like he'd spent the night pacing, Jack decided. Though he'd changed into fresh clothes, the bags under his eyes told another story. He wore one of his black turtlenecks, his long coat and gun harness under it, ready to go. An empty coffee mug sat by his hand, the folder from Michelle's file in front of him. He nodded at Jack, an undercurrent of energy flowing through him.

"Mona contacted me."

Jack blinked a few times. "When was that? I didn't even hear the phone."

"You were out cold," Max tapped his fingers on the file folder, watching Jack closely.

"Ok," Jack took a gulp of his coffee and swallowed it. He had a feeling that he didn't want to know what Mona had to say. "And…?"

"She spoke with her contact last night. She'll be meeting up with me later."

Jack mentally rolled his eyes. He held no doubts that it would be a meeting that didn't involve him. "That's it? We sit here and wait?"

"No."

Somehow that didn't feel any better. Jack finished the rest of his coffee, suddenly uncomfortable with the look Max wore. "So what do you got planned then?"

"I'm goin' to see Michelle's supervisor, Jason Colvin. He knows something," Max said with almost a feverish intent to his words. "I _know_ he does. He has to."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I am," Max snapped at him. "Because I have to be, because no one else out there wants to tell me why the fuck my wife was murdered and why someone seems intent on wiping me and everyone I ever loved out of my life. Ok, Jack? Is that clear enough?"

Jack winced and nodded silently. He toyed with his coffee cup and pushed it off to the side. He stood up and headed for the doorway of the kitchen. "Does this Colvin guy still work at Aesir?"

"Yeah, he's on the directory." Max frowned at him. "What're you doing?"

"We're going to see him, aren't we?"

"Jack…" Max sighed. "I can't bring you with me on this."

"Why the hell not?"

"This is too dangerous."

"What exactly do you have planned that's so dangerous, Max? You said you were going to talk to him."

Max wouldn't meet his eyes and with that, Jack felt fear settle in his stomach.

"Max…whatever you're thinking of doin' to him…"

"This is why I can't bring you along. I don't want anything happening to you."

Jack scoffed. "Oh yeah, and I'm so safe here, aren't I?"

Max tightened his mouth, an unhappy look to his face. "Jack, please don't make things difficult."

"Fuck you if you think I'm going to sit around here by myself. Last time I tried that, I ended up nearly bleeding out." Jack crossed his arms, daring him to disagree.

Max sighed heavily. "Damn it…"

X

Jack sat in one of the cushy chairs, surprised by how comfy the seat was. But as comfy as his back currently was, he was drumming his fingers nervously on the arms of the chair. Max seemed unable to sit still, that undercurrent of energy thrumming loud and clear. He paced around the office, moving from one side to the other. He ended up in front of several large black and white photos of a woman and a young girl. The girl was smiling into the camera, a young unaffected smile of happiness.

The receptionist that had let them into Jason Colvin's office seemed vaguely unconcerned at the idea of a detective wanting to speak with him as soon as he got in, but she'd given Jack an extra look or two of confusion. Jack sighed under his breath. Max was freaking him out.

The door finally opened behind them and Jack turned his head a little, a man coming into his view. He wore a business suit and a wet overcoat that was still dripping onto the tiled floor. In one hand he carried a wrinkled envelope of papers. His face was tight with worry. He darted confused eyes at Jack, then at Max's back.

"This your daughter?" was all Max said when he heard the door close behind Jason Colvin.

"Yes…" Jason hesitated, glancing at Jack once more as if he couldn't fathom why someone like him was in his office, or to that effect, why there was a detective standing behind his desk, intently staring at his personal photographs. "She's three years old."

"She's beautiful," Max said softly.

"Is…is there something I can help you with, Detective?"

Max shook his head slowly. "I don't know yet…"

"Maybe if you told me what this was about?" Jason took several steps closer to Max, looking all the more confused. "I'm not sure I understand…"

"It's about a homicide. Multiple homicides, actually," Max continued to stare at the photographs.

Jason's throat bobbed and he gestured with the envelope a little. "I uh…I didn't get your name."

"Max Payne." He turned then, finally looking at the slightly younger man.

The look on his face scared the hell out of Jack. He tensed up, feeling his chest twinge.

Jason gave him a tentative smile. "I," he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you."

"That's ok," Max walked around the desk, closer to Jason then. "What can you tell me about what Michelle was working on when she died? You were her supervisor then, right?"

Jason exhaled and gestured again, his confusion beginning to seem like an act. Jack sat up a little in the chair, tucking his thumbs under his fingers. Max came around the corner of the desk and sat on it, looking scarily calm for a moment.

"I, I think it was…hmm, about thirteen different projects, nothing out of the ordinary really for her focus of work."

Max said nothing. The silence that fell made the hairs on Jack's neck stand up.

Jason stepped closer to the desk. "It's hard to remember all the um, details from so long ago."

"Isn't that something that can be looked up?" Max stepped out of the way as Jason walked over to the coat stand. He took his wet coat off and hung it up, avoiding the stares from Max.

"I don't know how I would, it's um…not something we keep…" he trailed off as Max suddenly walked over to the door and locked it, the lock slamming shut eerily loud.

"That, uh, far back, we don't keep all the paperwork, it's a filing issue," he stammered.

"Funny thing is I don't know that I believe you," Max said in an almost friendly tone. "There's just no trace of her at all? Nothing left? How unusual…"

"We can't save everything…" Jason gestured once more, in the vicinity of his phone. Sweat had gathered on his forehead and his hand was shaking a little. "It's nothing personal."

"Do you need to make a call?"

"You know, um, maybe I should," Jason grabbed the phone and pressed one of his speed dials.

Max moved with a quickness that caught even Jack off guard. He came around the side of the desk and yanked the phone from Jason's hand as Jason tried to speak to his receptionist. He smashed the phone against the wall, the receiver still hanging from Jason's hand.

Jason stared at him, his eyes too wide, fear seeping from him.

"What do you know?" Max demanded.

"Wait…" was all Jason got out before Max punched him, sending him reeling to the floor.

Jack froze in his chair, his chest hitching. "Oh fuck…"

A knock sounded on the door, the receptionist's voice coming through the wood panel.

"Mr. Colvin?"

Jason landed in his computer chair, clutching at his nose. He gasped with panic and pain.

"Why are you lying to me?" Max hissed.

"I'm not!" Jason shouted, blood flying from his nose when Max punched him again.

The knocking increased from outside the door. Jack struggled to get up, his heart pounding furiously hard. This was bad, oh this was so bad.

He swallowed several times to get his throat working. "Max, fuck Max, stop!"

Jason panted, crouching helplessly back in his chair, Max looming over him.

"Tell me what happened to Michelle."

"I…I don't know," Jason gasped, both hands up in the air.

"Mr. Colvin, are you ok?" the receptionist shouted through the door.

"Jackie!" he shouted back, taking his eyes off Max.

Max backhanded him viciously, more blood flying through the air. Jack watched it land on the carpet in little red droplets, horrifically fascinated by the way it fell. He shuddered and forced himself to move from the chair and over to Max's side, one slow step at a time. He didn't like this, didn't want any part of this…

"Are you alright?" she knocked harder on the door, struggling with the door knob.

Jason cried out, clutching at his face. Jack swallowed back bile at the look of pain on Jason's face. Intimidating people with threats was one thing, but this…this was something else.

"What was she working on?" Max yelled.

"I don't know! I-I was in a different department, in charge of a different project! It…It was a government contract," Jason rambled helplessly.

"What did it have to do with Michelle?" Max widened his eyes, looking all the more enraged at the lack of info.

"I…I, she was just…" Jason sputtered as Max hit him again, crying out as he hit the floor.

"Max, for the love of God," Jack begged. He pushed at Max's arm, trying to yank him away from Jason. "They're gonna call the fucking cops on you!"

Max pulled out his gun from his holster and removed the safety, pointing it at Jason's knee. Jack's hands were wet with cold sweat. He blinked several times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "Max…" he choked out. "Max, don't!"

"Oh Jesus," Jason whispered. "It…It was a military operation. It was something to make soldiers more aggressive…aggressive in combat. It, God, it was a disaster. It only worked on about one percent of the test group, it made them invincible."

Max stared down at him, breathing hard himself.

"The rest of them, they suffered horrible hallucinations, devils, demons, you name it." He rubbed a trembling hand at his face. "It literally drove them insane. The…The effects were uncontrollable. The stuff was so addictive, we couldn't…couldn't even guarantee the safety of our _own_ scientists," he said, near tears. "We had to shut it down. The test subjects would…would follow them home and kill them, just for an extra dose."

"Is that what happened to Michelle?" Max breathed at him furiously.

"No."

Max moved the gun and aimed it at Jason's forehead. Jack darted looks at the door, at Max, at Jason and for a long moment, he felt like he might pass out. This was too much to watch. "Max…"

"What do you mean no? What **happened** to her?"

"Jesus," Jason choked, raising his hands to the side of his head. "Please…look, she didn't even know it was coming for her. I will tell you what happened…"

"Mr. Colvin, I called security, they're on their way!" Jackie shouted through the door.

"You gotta get me out of here, right now," Jason said, lowering his hands a little.

"What are you talking about?"

"I will confess to everything, but you gotta get me to safety!"

"That's not good enough; you tell me what happened to her now!"

"She was killed because of the drug!" Jason yelled, closing his eyes. He pointed blindly at his desk. "The envelope, it's in there, bring it with us and I'll explain. Please…you've got to protect me from them."

Max seemed at a loss for words. "Who're you talking about?"

"The man who killed your wife!"

Max darted a look at the envelope and nodded to Jack. "Get the envelope!" He grabbed Jason by the scruff of the neck and lifted him up, pushing him forward.

Jack snagged the envelope and stuffed it into his jacket sleeve, hurrying behind Max and the stumbling Jason Colvin. Max pushed Jason out of the office door, his gun still aimed at his head. A woman shrieked off to the side when the gun came into sight. People scrambled backwards and Jack tried to stay out of sight.

"Calm down!" Max shouted above the screams. He grabbed his badge from his belt clip and raised it over his head for them to see just as a SWAT team burst into the main room.

Jack felt his vision sway, all the guns aimed at them at once. The staff members dropped to the floor, more than a few screaming in terror. He had only a moment to look up before one of the gunmen pulled his trigger, sending a bullet straight into Jason Colvin's chest.

The world seemed to stop, no sound even as Jason looked down at his shirt where a circle of blood bloomed. Max stared down at the wound, as if he couldn't believe that the bullet hadn't been aimed at him. He looked back up at the gunmen; his eyebrows raised sky high, fear starting to cover his face. Jason dropped to his knees, his eyes closing as he did so, dead before he hit the floor.

Max shoved Jack behind him with one hand, the other firing off bullets at their enemies. With deadly precision, Max shot six of the men down. He pushed Jack along, ordering him to keep his head down. Jack stumbled and tripped a little as Max shoved him into a corridor made up of filing cabinets, bullets ricocheting all around them.

Max turned and shot over his shoulder through a small partition, his face blank as he fired each bullet. Jack clasped his hands over his ears. It was all he could do to keep his breathing even. His blue eyes were panic filled and he could feel his sense of reality slipping, lost between the shootout of the year before and the firefight they were caught in now.

"Bobby," he whispered through numb lips. "Bobby…Where are you…"

With seemingly calm movements, Max reloaded his gun, pushing the clip in. He raised his gun and aimed at the sprinkler on the ceiling, hitting it and setting it off. Water sprayed down from each sprinkler, causing more chaos amidst the bullets that were being fired every which way.

"Get up!" he yanked on Jack's coat, pulling him upwards. "Run!"

Jack ran blindly, following the voice he trusted. Bobby wouldn't steer him wrong, he managed to think, on the verge of having a full out panic attack. He could hear the guns, hear the bullets slamming into glass, and hear the footsteps of people chasing them. Glass sections of private offices exploded on their left side, Max shooting to his right while they ran.

Max let out a sharp gasp, a bullet grazing his left arm. He brought his arm up and fired a bullet directly into the knee of the shooter, sending him down howling in pain. Max then turned to face the door he was running towards and shot at the alarm code, firing several bullets into it, the pieces falling from the door uselessly.

With a shout, he slammed through the door, shoving Jack through him. Jack gasped frantically for air as Max grabbed the nearest metal shelf from the hall they were in and yanked it down, blocking it between the wall and the door separating them from the SWAT team. Jack held a hand to his side, grimacing in pain.

"Put your hands up!" Jim Bravura shouted as he came around the hallway corner and into the space they stood in. "You need to come in now, Max!"

"Just give me a chance!" Max held up the envelope. "Colvin knew what happened to Michelle."

They both aimed at each other, muted shouts coming through the jammed door. The water from the sprinklers poured, more shouts came and Jack stood up, gripping his side tightly. God, how he wanted out of this…

"I talked to B.B. He told me about what happened to her an' you, Max but you need to come in with me. This isn't makin' things any better and you know that and now you're dragging this kid along with you!"

"You stay away from him! Jack, get over here!" Max demanded with a shake of his head.

Jack bit his lip and limped over to Max's side, the ground beneath them rumbling. "This is so fucked up," he said, his words lost in the roar of an explosion where the door had been.

The metal flew outwards, separating them from Bravura. Max wasted no words and simply grabbed a fistful of Jack's coat, yanking him again as they ran down the hallway, escaping from the bullets that were echoing behind them.

X

"C'mon," Max urged, leading Jack outside the building from one of the many stairwells. He held the door for him, looking about to ensure that they hadn't been followed. Max looked wild to Jack, his eyes overly bright again, his lips pulled back from his teeth.

Jack collapsed against the concrete wall, struggling to keep his breathing even. His wounds from his attack ached and he couldn't seem to stop shaking. "Max…Max, I can't…this is too much!"

"Get up!" Max said through clenched teeth. "We don't have much time; they'll have men all over this fucking area in minutes."

"Fuck you!" Jack shouted. He stood up, wobbling and pointed at Max, furious. "This, this was…what the hell, man? You can't just do that! Even Bobby wouldn't have done that, you idiot!"

"Yell at me later, for now, move!" Max growled, tucking his gun into his harness. He reached for Jack, only to have Jack throw his arm back.

"Don't touch me," Jack glared at him. "You're seriously fucked in the head if you think we got any chance of comin' out of this without a goddamned prison sentence."

Max exhaled harshly, through gritted teeth. He swiped at the blood that seeped from the torn fabric of his leather jacket. "I'm finally on the right track to finding out the truth. I can't back down now, Jack."

"At what expense?" Jack waved his hand at the building. "That man had a family; he had a daughter, Max! Do you hear me? A kid, a kid whose dad just died because of what you're doing! You can't do shit like that or you're no better than the fuckers who took out your wife and your son!"

And right then, Jack felt the worst stab of guilt when he saw the look in Max's eyes, the pain on his face. He sighed a little. "I…"

Max said nothing. He turned and started walking away, disappearing into the shadows of the nearest alleyway. Jack hesitated a second and then went after him, sirens wailing in the distance.

X


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Chasing Ghosts 13/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

Not so much as a word was spoken between Max and Jack as they high-tailed it out of the immediate city core. Max had stashed his car a few streets back from the Aesir building which, if anything, only told Jack for certain that Max had been planning to do more than just _talk_ to Jason Colvin.

Jack gritted his teeth in the passenger seat, struggling to keep his temper under a fast boil. He was more than angry, more than furious even. This was not how he'd expected things to go. He'd been expecting something more from a man like Max Payne. He hadn't been expecting an out of control ex-Homicide cop who'd seemingly lost his goddamned mind.

Bobby would _never_ have let it get this out of hand with a person like Jason. As fucked up as Bobby could be, he had a code, a series of rules that he followed. And getting your informant killed before he could give up the info was a definite no-no.

Max pulled over abruptly without sparing Jack a glance. "You need to eat."

"Yeah, and you need a bandage for your arm."

With little more than a grunt, Max shifted and rotated his left arm. "It's a graze, I'm fine."

He killed the engine and got out of the car. "Make it quick; pick something you can eat while we're on the road."

"Oh boy," Jack muttered under his breath. "Beef jerky, here I come."

The convenience store was at least warm, though overly bright. Jack squinted under the harsh lights and made his way up and down a few aisles, limping slightly, his leg still sore from their leap into the hallway. He grabbed a bag of beef jerky, a box of granola bars with chocolate and a few cans of pop.

"Don't 'spose you'd spring for cigarettes?" he asked Max hopefully.

Max looked thoroughly unimpressed. "It's a filthy habit, you know."

"Is that a no?"

He almost smiled at that and his lips quirked in the corners. "Fine, go get your brand," Max said.

"Thanks," Jack limped over to the counter, nodding to the bored cashier behind the counter.

The man looked half awake, though it was well past ten in the morning. He handed Max his change, his eyes registering only a flicker of interest at the blood on Max's arm. "Have a nice day," he mumbled into his chest, already leaning back from the counter's edge.

Jack tore into the package as soon as they got into the car. He lit a cigarette and inhaled greedily, relishing the acrid burn. "Fuck yeah," he groaned. Way too long since he'd last had one, he thought, aware of the way Max was staring at him, at his mouth.

"So, you got a plan, right?" he asked around the cigarette in his mouth.

Max snorted. "Not exactly…"

"Figures," Jack snapped his seatbelt on and resumed taking long drags. "What about Mona? Can you contact her?"

"I don't have a number for her." Max drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and lifted his gaze from Jack to the road, keeping a watchful eye out for other cops. "But I know where her office would be."

"Assassins have office buildings?"

"Funny."

Jack settled for smoking, using the light banter to keep his anger at bay. He felt ready to explode and exit the car, ready to walk back home to Detroit if that's what it took to keep himself from completely losing his shit all over Max.

As Max drove, he seemed to be tensing all the more. Jack could literally feel the tension level in the car raising. Finally he turned to look at Max and hazarded a questioning look, prepared to lean away if he snapped.

"What?"

"Max…About what I said earlier, look, I wanted to…"

Max shook his head once. "Don't."

"But…"

"I said don't, Jack! You made your point."

Jack rubbed his tongue stud against his bottom teeth, all the more annoyed. "You've got some nerve freakin' out on me like this. You almost got both of us killed, Max! Colvin's dead because of this wing bullshit, and for what? Some half cocked idea about revenge?"

"Didn't your Bobby do the same thing last year?"

Oh, that was taking it too far.

"Back the fuck off of that one! Bobby didn't kill anyone who was innocent, for your fucking information, Max!" Jack was incensed. He pitched his half smoked cigarette out the open car window, smoke floating over his head. "Don't you even dare compare him to what you did!"

Max grimaced. "Please, I know more than you think about his type. You've got blinders on when it comes to him. How many people died last year, Jack? Huh? How many got in his way and paid the price for it? He's well known in a few states, which I'm sure you're aware of."

Jack fairly trembled with rage. "He didn't get anyone killed the way you did today," he whispered fiercely. "It's going to be a long day for the Colvin family. I wonder who's gonna explain to his daughter that Daddy isn't coming home anymore?"

Max slammed on the brakes, his eyes murderously wide, his teeth bared. The car fishtailed on the road for a moment, sliding in the snow before coming to a stop. He stared at Jack as though this was the first time he'd seen him and Jack felt his heart skip several beats. His treacherous mouth, always getting away from him at the wrong moment…

A full minute went by before Max's throat bobbed. He looked like he wanted to punch something, one hand halfway up in the air. Jack closed his eyes, waiting for the follow through. He tried not to cringe, tried not to wince before it started to occur to him that Max wasn't following through with his abrupt motion.

He let out a shaky breath and peered at Max from under his lashes, swallowing nervously.

Max let his hand slowly settle back on the steering wheel. "Don't say another word," he managed to say in a painful voice. "Not one more."

Jack nodded quickly and looked down at his lap, his hands trembling. His eyes stung and he felt shame flood through him. For not the first time that day, he felt an intense longing for Bobby. At least with Bobby, he was safe…most of the time.

X

True to his word, Jack didn't utter so much as a loud breath during the rest of the drive. He finished half of the jerky, a can of pop and two of the granola bars, eating as quietly as he could manage. Max said nothing at all, his jaw tensed far too tightly. He took turns, went left or right seemingly at random, moving through the back streets of the city and avoiding the major arteries where cops would be likely be cruising for them.

That thought was more than enough to make Jack want to panic. How could he explain his part in all this? The cops thought Max had killed Natasha and Alex, he'd broken into Alex's office and stolen confidential files, had invoked the wrath of a Russian assassin and that of a SWAT team that had resulted in the death of someone nearly innocent.

Jack lit another cigarette, struggling to calm his nerves. He couldn't cope with all this.

Max turned off a main street and drove into a warehouse facility. The tunnel was dim and Jack craned his head, unable to see much besides the gray walls and loading docks in a row. They pulled up to the one labelled 23 and stopped there. Max got out, beckoning to Jack for him to follow.

He took his gun out from his holster, moving slowly towards the large door before them.

"Stay behind me," he said over his shoulder to Jack. "She might not appreciate us dropping by unexpected."

"Awesome," Jack sighed and stubbed out the last bit of his cigarette on the cement stairs.

Max used his elbow to smash through the glass window beside the door handle, the leather of his jacket protecting him. Jack winced a little and darted out of the way of glass shards.

"You think that'll piss her off more?"

"I don't care at this point," Max reached through the hole and unlocked the door, pushing it open. "You still got that envelope?"

X

Jack sat on the red sunken in couch, surrounded by boxes and furniture and crates. Max was next to him, his body as tense as ever. He flipped through the folder inside the envelope, past a full page picture of a solider named Jack Lupino. Pages of reports followed that, details of a Lupino's blood work and his reactions. Tucked inside the envelope was a DVD case, a clear one with a disc inside labelled '**Valkyr**'.

"Valkyr…That's so damned creepy," Jack swore, fighting the urge to cross himself.

Max took it out and held it up to the light. "See if you can find a television in this place."

Mona's footsteps caused Jack to pause. He looked back at her, his breath catching. Oh God, did she ever look pissed…

"You've gotta see this," Max said without looking behind the couch.

Mona came around the side of the couch, putting the safety on her gun. "I'd ask how you found me, but I think I can figure it out."

"I ran into some problems but I got this info."

"Is that why there's an APB out on you both?"

Jack sighed and shook his head. "Jesus Christ…" He leaned against a stack of boxes. "Max, you realize that we're completely fucked, right?"

"Not if I can get some kind of proof to show them, something to back all this up," Max said and Jack really wanted to believe that.

Mona took her long overcoat off and sat on the edge of the couch. "So what's this information about then?"

"You got a DVD player around here?"

She pointed over Jack, gesturing behind him. "That one's hooked up."

The three of them watched in stunned silence once the video began to play, the narrator's voice glowingly referencing the future of America's soldiers and the newest drug to help them along, **Valkyr**, as developed by Aesir Pharmaceuticals.

"That's what this is about?" Mona asked no one in particular, "A drug?"

The video continued on, listing all the ways it could help turn soldiers from mere mortals to invincible killing machines. The scene ended abruptly and switched to test subject interviews. One numbered 53, the name Jack Lupino flashed on the screen, the same man from the picture in the folder.

Jack Lupino, a Marine, sat and smiled for the camera; answering the unseen interviewer happily that taking Valkyr had changed his life for the better…that he was never scared, that he felt peace while fighting as if something was watching over him from above and that he felt like he had wings.

Jack swallowed uneasily. "Like an angel, huh?"

The man on the television smiled and chuckled and informed them that he'd had no negative side effects. The interview ended shortly after and Mona raised the remote, turning the video off. They all sat for a moment, digesting what they'd just seen.

"That man," Max breathed, almost inaudibly. "That man killed my wife…Natasha too."

Mona shook her head a little, nodding along. "He's in an old club called Ragnarok. My contact, he told me about the tattoos. Lupino marks them as part of his army."

"That sick fuck," Jack hissed. He stood up impatiently and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. He grabbed the photo of Lupino and wanted to crumple it up. He could feel the ungodly strong fingers prying him loose from his hiding spot and knew at once that this man had been his attacker.

Max said nothing. He moved off the couch and over to the side table, looking at the guns that lay there. He checked one for ammo, his face eerily blank once more. As he lifted it, examining the safety on it, Jack felt a chill sweep over him.

"Max, forget it. If you go there, you'll die." Mona walked over to him, her face pale. "You have my help with anything else, but not to go in there."

"Keep it that way," he said, loading a bullet into the gun. "I need you here."

She looked at Jack for a moment and bit her bottom lip. "You," she looked back to Max. "You don't want to make it out of there, do you?"

Max didn't respond but his hands stilled on the gun.

"You think if he puts you of your misery, you'll be with them again?" she said, her voice catching a little, a deep breath of pity coming through.

"Yeah, I kind of hope that's how it works," Max whispered and turned to face her.

She tossed her long sweep of hair, tears gleaming in her eyes. "And him?" she nodded to Jack. "I thought you both…"

Jack shoved his hands into his pockets. And what indeed, he thought miserably. "You might've mentioned something about this, Max."

"If I die, I die, so long as you don't get hurt," Max said with some bitterness. "You aren't coming along this time. I can't, in fact, I won't let you. Mona can keep you safer than I can right now."

"And afterwards?" Jack demanded. "What then? You go in there, shoot the fucking place up, maybe take him out or maybe he kills you and that's that? _So long and thanks for the fuck, Jackie_?"

Max unclenched his jaw and crossed the floor to Jack. He reached up, catching Jack's cheek with one hand. He pulled him down a bit, kissing him roughly. "I'm sorry for what it's worth," he whispered harshly. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Sorry…? You're sorry?" Jack laughed a little, feeling tears spring to his eyes. "You're fucking sorry? How can you do this? Just…just walk in there and leave…leave me like this? Do you even give a shit about me at all?"

Max moved his hand up gently, into Jack's hair. He carded his fingers through the strands, sighing as he did so. "You're the last person I expected to meet, Jack. And…and I care too much to let you take this kind of risk. You don't belong with me, Jack. You should go back home. You need to go back where you belong, not here with me in a place like this. I won't let you risk yourself for someone like me."

Jack yanked back away from him with an angry sob. He turned away, gripping his arms across his chest for comfort. He hated the tears that escaped even more than he hated the feeling of being cast aside. He shut his eyes tightly, wishing in vain that he'd never set foot in New York.

"Mona," Max turned to face her. He almost winced at the look on her face, the unspoken accusation in her damp eyes. "Keep him safe for me. That's all I'm gonna ask you to do."

"You're a fool, Max." She looked away from him, still shaking her head a little, "A damned fool."

Jack held it in as Max touched his shoulder, passing by him. He held back the urge to scream, to grab Max and shake him until he understood. What was there left to say? Max's footsteps faded away and Jack slowly knelt down to the floor, lost in his misery.

X

Mona gave him time enough to stem the flow of violently angry tears, one dainty hand touching his shoulder. Jack shuddered under the slight touch, embarrassed that she'd been there to see him fall apart. Mona rubbed her thumb over the spot where he'd been shot the year before, unknowingly pressing on it through his jacket.

Jack hissed and moved away from her, fresh tears burning his eyes. "Don't…"

"I'm sorry, Jack," she murmured. "He's…He doesn't know what he's doing."

"You know him even less than I do, so don't pretend you understand," Jack swiped a hand over his face, sniffing hard. "He's tryin' to get himself killed, and I'll be damned if I let him do that."

Mona simply looked at him, her eyes clearly telling him what she thought of that. "Look, Jack, you're not exactly prepared to do battle with a guy like Lupino. You don't have any weapons, and…well…"

He glared at her. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

She gave him a sad smile. "It's kind of funny. Most people are afraid of me. I thought you were at first."

"I was," he stood, practically towering over her. "I kind of still am. But we want the same thing now, right? You're not gonna let him go in there alone?"

Mona nodded once. "I was considering it. If he wants to die this way, it's up to him."

"No," Jack whispered, thinking of his brothers and the unspoken vow to always back each other up and how close it had come to all falling apart after Evelyn's death. "No way, I won't let him make that choice."

Mona seemed to be studying him. A long minute passed before she smiled a little. "You're going to need a weapon."

X


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Chasing Ghosts 14/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

Nothing could have prepared Jack for the vast array of weapons that Mona had at the ready. With the death of Evelyn's murderers, Bobby had stripped the apartment of its weapons cache and that had seemed like quite a lot, but this…Jack shook his head slowly. This was unreal.

Mona studied a row of guns, seemingly having a silent debate over what would be best for Jack. She bit her lip and passed that shelf, moving on to the next one. "Have you handled guns before?"

"Yeah actually," Jack put his hands into his pockets, feeling very much like an overgrown kid in a store full of pricey toys. "My brothers had me learn awhile back."

"What about target practice?"

"Um," Jack shrugged sheepishly. "I'm uh, not the best shot."

Mona sighed. "Well, time's not on our side right about now. I can give you some pointers but you're going to have to do this on your own mainly."

"I've never seen anyone with such a death wish before," Jack murmured.

He eyed one particularly nasty looking gun and tried not to shudder. It looked awfully mean.

Mona picked up one gun thoughtfully. She held it out to Jack. "Some people can't get over losing their family," she said, watching him take the gun. "They just can't. Jack…Have you really thought this through?"

"There's no other option," Jack weighed the gun with his hand, fitting his fingers comfortably on it.

"Sure there is," she turned away and packed a black duffel bag with several weapons and more bullets than Jack could count. "This isn't your fight and Max won't be happy to see you there."

Jack scoffed at that. "That's too fucking bad then, isn't it?" He wouldn't admit to how nervous he was, only to how sure he was that this was necessary in every way. Bobby wouldn't have left Angel or Jerry to fight his way through someone like Lupino. And leaving Max to suffer this alone wasn't right.

"Stay with me, Jack. No heroics, got it?"

Jack grabbed a handful of bullets. "Yeah…"

X

Jack's knee bobbed and jittered the whole way over to Ragnarok. His stomach tightened as they neared the rundown building and he clenched his teeth together to keep them from clacking. This was not the kind of thing he excelled at.

Mona stopped a hundred feet back from the building, staring out the windshield for a long moment. She said nothing, a muscle jumping in her cheek. Jack shifted forward in his seat and followed her gaze, straining to see anything in the dim light, the sun having set on their way over. Snow pelted down from the clouds, obscuring his vision all the more.

"What?" he whispered. "What is it?"

"There's a body by the stairs," Mona undid her seatbelt and slid out of the car smoothly, a gun in hand. "Stay back."

Like hell he would, Jack bristled. It was one thing for Max to treat him like that, or even Bobby, but no way was some tiny little woman with a gun fetish going to force him to be her back up. He was out of the car in a second, keeping a few feet behind her.

Mona approached the body with great caution, the wind whipping her hair back from her face. She nudged the leg closest to her, her gun at the ready. When nothing happened, she nudged the leg harder and flipped the body over, blood marring what was left of the security man's chest.

Jack swallowed at the sight, fighting the urge to vomit. There was so much blood and the look of pain on the man's face was all too real. He let out a breath that he hadn't been aware of holding in. "Christ…"

"Max," was all Mona said. She moved up the stairs to the side door that was ajar. Boot prints on the snow covered cement led inside. She nodded to Jack and pushed the door open further with her elbow, following the melted snow on the ground as to where Max had gone.

The inside of the warehouse was dark, metal shelving and stairs every which way. Jack held his shotgun, his palms greasy with sweat. Dirt and dust flooded his nose and his nostrils twitched, fighting the urge to sneeze. Under the smell of grease and dirt and oil was another scent, one more cloying and metallic.

Blood…

Jack came to an abrupt stop at the sight of two more men crumpled against the wall, blood spreading in a slick pool around them. Bullet wounds dripped on them and Jack's nausea surged again. He tried to look away from the men, knowing damn well that they would have shot him, had he wandered in here innocently.

"Come on, Jack," Mona said to him quietly. She looked down, seeing several casing shells. "He went over there."

Jack forced himself forward, following her through the door and down a set of metal stairs. He could feel his heart pounding harder and the urge to shout for Max was very strong. Light flickered in the distance, far across the building floor.

Mona moved so lightly, Jack could hardly hear her. She moved past the cartons and stacks of metal crates, her gun steady in her grasp. She looked completely in her element. She pointed to the side tables, crates upon crates of medicinal tubes stacked off to the side.

Most of the tubes were filled with a light blue liquid. Jack tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. Valkyr doses, he managed to think, his nerves jangling harder. The drug people were willing to kill innocents over.

There were pots boiling on a makeshift stove, steam pouring out of them. Jack picked up a vial, studying it. The name Valkyr was printed on everything from the pots, to the vials, to the crates. Jack took several of the vials and slipped them into his inner coat pocket.

"Jack!" Mona hissed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "You never know. Proof an' all that shit."

"Jack, I swear if you…" she trailed off and looked down, noticing the vast amount of bullets that scarred the cement floor. "Jack, look," she nodded.

Further past them was a mess of bottles, pots and bits of wood. Underneath that was a spray of blood that coated the floor. Jack bit his lip, two more bodies visible then. Each held a gun; each had more than one bullet wound. He shivered uncontrollably.

The floor was covered with sticky blood, trickles of the blue liquid and shards of glass. Mona turned around abruptly and let out a sound, whether it was sad or not, Jack couldn't tell. A steady drip of blood was falling from the stairway off to the side. Another body, he supposed.

They followed the trails of blood and liquid through the nearest door. Water fell in rivulets by the doorway, more metal crates ahead of them. Jack lifted his gun up a bit higher, spying a yellow light a few feet ahead of them. The door hung open, as if it'd been kicked in.

Jack sprinted forward, ignoring Mona's warning. He skidded to a stop; a choked breath escaping at the sight of Lupino sprawled on the floor, his shaved head gleaming in the candlelight. He hitched in a breath, nearly falling backwards in the process.

The room was aglow with candles and row upon row of Valkyr doses lined the shelves. Much of the room had been trashed. Mona swore in Russian under her breath. A reclined medical chair lay on the floor next to Lupino, more glass and blood coating it.

"He's dead," Jack mumbled, hardly able to believe it.

With trembling hands, he knelt down a little, studying the bullet hole in the middle of Lupino's chest. The look of surprise on Lupino's face was eerily unsettling. He looked almost as if he couldn't believe it, even in death. Jack moved away from him, away from the beginning scents of death.

"Max isn't here," he said, afraid to admit it. "He's not here, Mona."

She crossed the room, looking at the plastic bins overhead that were stuffed full of folders, some labelled with Aesir tags. "They were doing tests here. Lupino did them." She looked at Jack. "C'mon, I think I know where he is."

X

Mona drove like a woman possessed, the car screeching along the snow covered ground. She leaned the car around a corner and Jack felt a prayer come to his lips. He gripped the side of the car door, his panic nearly overwhelming him. Bobby had driven this way, the night they'd chased the shooters, skidding and screaming along the snow and ice, running blindly into a snowstorm.

Jack didn't bother to ask any questions as they pulled into the marina. He was out of the car and running beside Mona, unwilling to question her as to how she suddenly knew where to go. Jack shielded his face from the pelting snowflakes and watched, to his horror, as B.B. Hensley and a tall black man chased Max down the dock, their pistols firing at him.

His knees went weak and he wobbled, his mouth falling open. "Max…"

Mona yanked a fistful of Jack's coat and dragged him behind a pile of snow covered wooden shipping crates. "Get down," she whisper-shouted. "They see you or me and we're both dead, got it?"

Jack watched in mute horror as the bullets flew through the air, Max dodging them as he ran pell-mell towards the end of the dock, the icy water waiting for him. "No…Jesus, Mona, do somethin'," he pleaded helplessly.

B.B. shouted in vain, his words lost in the wind that howled around them. Max ran straight off the edge of the dock and jumped into the water, his would be killers emptying their guns into the water.

"Screw him!" B.B. spat blood onto the dock. "He'll freeze to death."

He nudged his assistant, the tall man still staring into the ice filled harbour water. "Let's get out of here."

With that, the two of them left, bypassing the stacks of crates, Jack and Mona unnoticed by either man. Mona clamped her gloved hand down over the gun that Jack had trained on B.B.'s back, her grip surprisingly strong.

"No."

Jack blinked away his tears of rage. "Max…He's in the water…He'll die!"

"If he sees you now, you're dead."

"You don't understand…B.B. was his friend. That fat fuck," he wanted to scream, but his words came out in strangled gasps.

As soon as B.B. was out of sight, Mona released her grip on the gun. Jack dropped the gun and ran blindly to the edge of the dock. "Max!" he shouted over the wind. "God, Max, please…"

There were huge chunks of ice in the water, scattered and blocking much of the surface. Jack knelt down, gripping the slippery wood of the dock and shouting desperately, searching for any sign of Max.

The water began to ripple, the ice chunks moving erratically. Jack tightened his knuckles on the wood, his chest hitching at the sight of Max's head breaking the surface. He bobbed in the water, gasping and sputtering. The water had to be well below freezing, Jack knew.

"Max!" he called, ignoring the tear that ran down his cheek.

Max bobbed again and again, going under only to surface once more, his movements slowing down. He jerked and thrashed, unhearing of Jack's hoarse cries for him. He slipped under the surface with a choked gasp, his movements coming to a stop.

Jack searched the water, the cold wind slapping at him. He let out a harsh breath and yanked at his coat, pulling the worn leather sleeves back. "Max…" he stripped it off mindlessly, preparing to dive in after him.

"Jack, no!" Mona lunged after him, just managing to get a hold of his sweater. "Stop!"

"I'm not letting him drown!" Jack yelled, swinging his legs forward and down into the water. He sucked in a breath, pain ricocheting up his legs when the cold water soaked through his jeans. Oh holy God, it was cold.

Mona clung to the edge of the dock, narrowly avoiding getting pulled in after him. "You're insane, you know that!" she shouted after him furiously.

Jack tried to tread water but it was almost too much for him. He'd always been a strong swimmer but not in water this cold. He struggled to move his legs, weighed down by his clothes and his boots. Sputtering and flailing in the water, he dove under and swam as best he could, a spot of blackness not far off.

Max…

He moved almost painfully slow, his skin so cold he could barely force his arms to keep going. His chest ached with the need to breathe and his side was screaming bloody murder from his efforts. Jack kicked his legs and pushed harder, dizzy and disoriented as he reached for the familiar black jacket in front of him.

Jack wrapped an arm around Max's chest, stunned when Max opened his eyes, staring back at him. A bubble came out of Max's mouth and Jack thought he could almost hear the question in that second. He gave him a crooked smile and pushed up, heaving Max up with him as best he could.

Together they pushed upwards until they burst up through the surface. Jack sucked in a frantic breath, his throat working to take in air. It was even colder above the water. Max gasped, winding his arm around Jack's chest as well.

Somehow, they made it to the edge of the dock. Jack reached up and yanked on the wood, forcing himself up and onto the dock. He yanked on Max's chest, heaving him up as well. They fell back onto the snow covered dock, panting.

Max coughed, forcing water up and out of his throat. As he wheezed, he fisted his hands, the frozen air settling on them in an instant. Jack shuddered and rolled onto his side, unable to catch his breath. He shook violently, unable to recall ever being so _cold_ in his life.

"J-Jack," Max managed between gasps. "You…you're…"

"No w-way am I…I s-stayin' behi-behind on t-this o-one," Jack said, his teeth clacking painfully together.

"G-Gonna freeze," Max's hand scrambled over his coat, digging inside it. He pulled two vials out, shaking harder than before. They didn't have long before the cold would be too much for them.

"Max…" Jack shuddered, watching in disbelief as he gulped down a vial. "No…"

Max thrust one of the vials at him between helpless pants of air. "T-Take it…"

Jack shook his head and dug his own vials out, downing both before he could stop to think about it. The liquid burned down his throat, searing the tissue along the way. He cried out, his head tilting back, tears trickling out his eyes.

Max took the remaining vial, letting the tube fall to the dock. He fell back against the wood, shaking roughly. Jack rolled over, his shaking fading away as he got to his hands and knees. He let out an uneven whimper as his body tensed up. "Oh God…" he choked.

"Jack…J-Jack," Max got out before he knelt as well.

Jack looked up, his eyes wide as sparks of flames floated down between the snowflakes. A sob slipped out unheard as he heard the unholy _flapping_ high above them. He stood, his spine arching back as he screamed, unaware of Max standing beside him, their screams caught in the roaring of flame and flapping and fiery skies, caught in the thunder that rolled down towards them.

Max grabbed Jack's arm, limping forward. Jack watched in dread as Valkryies flew in dizzying circles over their heads, swooping down, claw fingers reaching for them. Jack shrieked and crouched down, beyond terror, beyond fear and sanity. He screamed again, both his hands fisted in his hair.

"No! Oh God," he begged, closing his eyes.

Max firmed his grip on Jack's arm, pulling him in tight. "Jack, Jack, look at me," he demanded hoarsely.

Jack opened his eyes, struggling to stay in the moment. "Bobby," he whispered tearfully. "God, help me, Bobby…I can't do this…"

"Jack…" Max moved his hands, cupping Jack's face. "It's me. It's…Max."

"I can't…Please," Jack choked out. "I'm sorry…"

Max stared at Jack worriedly. "It…" he sighed a little. "Shh, it's ok," he said, rubbing his thumb over Jack's cheek. "I'm not mad. And I need your help."

"Y-yeah?" Jack flinched, scared shitless by the sight of another Valkryie dodging them.

"Yeah…" he nodded. "We gotta go now."

Jack managed a nod and stumbled along with him, limping as fast as he could. If Bobby told him to jump back in the water, he'd have done it gladly, if only to escape the living hell surrounding him. He ran along with the man at his side, his heart slamming against his ribcage, not sparing a thought as to where Mona had gone.

X


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Chasing Ghosts 15/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

Moving through the city while under the influence of Valkyr was terrifying.

Jack, having grabbed his gun from where he'd dropped it on the dock, tried to keep up with Max, but it was difficult at best. The wound in his side was aching miserably and he still felt frozen to the core. He licked his lips, repulsed by the lingering taste of the bitter blue liquid. He'd had no desire to try it, but it had come down to death by hypothermia or ingesting the drug that would allow him to keep moving.

Far above them, Valkryies flew in sweeping circles, the thunder from their wings echoing in Jack's ears until he was sure that blood must be trickling from them. They screeched and howled, following them through the snow, ashes and flames dripping down between the snowflakes.

Sanity was slipping away from him and he wanted to hide from the vengeful angels, hide until it was safe to come out, until Bobby was there to show him the path to safety. Jack blinked, feeling as though he were running through water, his body moving but his mind far, far behind.

Max…Was it still Max? Jack looked to him as Max loped into the Aesir underground parking lot, his eyes wild, a bestial look to his face. He was blurry to Jack, a fierce hazy image, hissing one worded instructions to him as they approached an idling car, Max armed to the teeth with the guns he'd had near the dock.

The image kept changing, Bobby's wild eyes taking Max's, their images mirroring each other. Jack let out a tiny, fearful laugh, the sound bubbling up in his throat and dying on the way out.

Bobby would keep him safe, he told himself over and over. Bobby wouldn't let him get hurt again. He promised.

Max…he thought it was Max, ran up to the waiting car and wrenched the door open and pulled one of his guns out, firing a bullet right into the left temple of the uniformed chauffeur behind the wheel. Jack stumbled and fell back behind one of the underground support pillars, grasping his gun with slick fingers.

He watched around the pillar as Max shoved the man back in place, against the somewhat open car door. He dashed behind the pillar, his gun at the ready. His breathing came in short, ragged gasps. Jack blinked as the image switched again and he could see Bobby's lips curled back in a wordless snarl, waiting for the enemies to come just a bit closer.

The elevator doors _pinged_ open and the sound of boots on concrete echoed towards them. Jack closed his eyes, his chest hitching in painfully. The video of soldiers said they felt no fear, but they lied, God, they lied because Jack was so afraid, so afraid of the Valkryies, afraid of the men with guns stalking them, and afraid of Max, afraid of the unhinged man at his side.

He heard the footsteps come to a halt, saw the car slowly rolling forward in neutral, saw the chauffer's body droop, slump and fall out of the car, down to the ground. Jack clamped his lips shut, another hysterical giggle trying to force its way up.

"Oh shit…He's not dead, he's _here_," someone's voice floated over to them.

"Bullshit…" was as far as B.B. Hensley got before Max moved and opened fire.

The bullets slammed into the guards surrounding B.B. and his assistant, taking them down in a flurry of ammo. Max ran at them, firing as fast as both his guns could handle. B.B. yanked a gun from his coat and fired back even as he ran for the safety of the elevator. Jack took a shaky step forward and followed after Max, his finger moving over the trigger.

Flames moved up and over the walls, illuminating the pathway of B.B., glass shattering around the outline of the elevator. Jack took in shallow breaths, firing as best he could, a bullet slamming into the elevator doors as they slid shut, narrowly missing B.B.'s frightened face.

Max reeled, his eyes huge and lost in the haze of the powerful drug coursing through his veins. He let out a wild primal scream of loss, his lips pulled back over his teeth like a mad dog. Jack shuddered, his skin prickling all over. He felt the flames in his mind come closer, losing further grasp on what was really happening around them.

_God, help me…_

X

Max ran for the side of the parking lot leading to where the stairs were, his head moving every which way as he searched out the streams of guards that were coming at them. He opened fire, picking them off one by one.

Jack stumbled and ran with one hand clamped to his side. He bit his lower lip with his teeth, choking on his breaths. The gun was a heavy weight in his hand and he found himself raising his arm, firing as well. He heard a yelp of pain, his bullet smashing into a guard's thigh. Instead of elation at having hit his target, he felt only grief.

They moved from level to level until Max shoved his guns into his jacket, pulling out his shotgun instead. He mowed through the men that ran at them, keeping Jack behind him protectively. Blood sprayed every which way and Jack gagged, willing his nausea to settle, focusing more on the walls of flames that followed them.

He closed his eyes again, opening them when they reached the floor where Jason Colvin's office had been. He looked about, police line tape wrapped around the room, glass shards coating the floor, blood stained carpeting under their feet, papers and bits of computers littered every which way. Jack gripped his gun tighter, hearing his heartbeat in his ears. The angels were following them, he was sure of it.

As Max moved down the middle aisle, a shooter jumped out, falling back under the weight of the bullet slamming into his head. Another, then one more, Max slaying each as he went. One came around a pillar and fired, the bullet driving into Max's unprotected side.

Max yelled as he fell, landing on the ground with a grunt. Jack stared down at him, his knees shaking. The shooter came at him and Jack lifted his hand, his wrist wobbling for a half second before he steadied it. The man aimed at him and Jack pulled the trigger reflexively, sending the bullet into the man's throat.

Blood sprayed backwards and Jack could almost hear Bobby crowing his name in delight. He laughed hysterically, watching the room spin around them. Max was back on his feet in seconds, his breathing beyond erratic.

Thunder roared outside the building and Jack shielded his eyes from the intense bright white light that spilled into the window. Max grunted at the light, sweat pouring down his face. He dropped to his knees as the roaring grew louder. Jack clasped his hands over his ears, screaming.

The floor shook under them, and to Jack's horror, the window shattered as the flapping sound filling the room above the thunder. Jack fell to his hands and knees as well, scrambling back in terror. The angel loomed over them, vicious eyes gleaming, claws raised to swipe.

The white light shifted and Max's face changed. His mouth dropped open and his expression softened. "Michelle?" he whispered reverently.

Jack blinked back tears, the white light blinding him. He couldn't see anything but a vague shape, the slight outline of a body moving closer towards him. Max reached a hand out, his eyes damp. Jack inhaled raggedly, his throat raw and aching. He wished desperately that the angel was Evelyn, come to protect him again.

He flinched when Max screamed. The white light vanished and the ceiling ripped away as flames scorched and ripped through the room, the horrid angels swooping in the hellfire above them. Jack screamed and bent forward, hiding his face in the ground, his body twisting and aching in every part, Max screaming beside him, in rage, in pain.

He couldn't take it and even as he screamed, as tears ran down his face, he cried out for Bobby to save him from his nightmare.

Gunfire erupted over their heads, the body of a guard falling in front of them, Mona and her vicious looking gun standing behind them. Jack sobbed unevenly, his hands in his hair. Mona crossed the floor to them, her face a study in concern. She knelt close to Max, a hand hesitating over his head.

The angels flew upwards and the fire receded, leaving them with only thunder roaring through the air.

"Max…Max, come on," Mona whispered, moving her hand over his head gently. "Listen, I can hold them off for as long as I can manage, but you have to finish this."

Max let out a breathy sob, his shoulders shaking. He moved his head, trembling.

Mona looked to Jack, her eyes dark with worry. "Jack, come on, you need to get up, both of you, now!"

She shoved a gun into Max's hand. "Max, look at me! Take the gun. You're not done yet, do you hear me?"

He gripped the gun with whitened knuckles, his chest still heaving with each breath.

"Michelle…"

"Not yet, Max."

Jack got to his feet, wobbling badly. "Mona, help him up," he mumbled, struggling to pull his sanity back under his control. He cringed at the distant rumble of wings overheard. "Can't do this alone no more."

She gripped Max's arm and heaved upwards, bringing him up with her. Max leaned against Jack, his eyes wild once again. "B.B.," he spat. "Killed them…he killed her!"

"Go get him," Mona said into his ear.

Max nodded, holding the gun close to his chest. "Get him," he repeated. He staggered towards the door and kicked at it, disappearing into the next room.

Jack wiped at his face with his arm, sniffing. "He's gonna die like this. It isn't right."

"Don't let them then," she commanded, pushing at him. "You protect him."

Protect him…Jack felt his shoulders stop trembling. Protect Max…For once, he could protect someone else.

"Go, I'll hold off the guards," she said, hurrying out of the room.

Jack took a deep breath and ran after Max, following him as he made his way to B.B.'s office. Max burst through B.B.'s door, screaming his name. The office was empty but for the fire and brimstone outside the huge glass window.

Oh God…Jack stared as the Valkryie flew right at them, slamming into the window and leering at them, its claws scraping over the pane of glass. Jack crammed a hand over his mouth, fighting back his instinctive shriek.

Max hammered his fist on the glass, shouting back at the screeching angel when a sudden explosion rocked them both, the glass before them shattering, sending both men hurtling to the carpet. The angel vanished in a hailstorm of wind, snow and shards of glass.

Jack threw his arms over his head, shielding his face from the flying glass. Max rolled onto his side and knelt, shaking violently in the cold wind that immediately flooded the room. Sirens screamed far below, people shouting and yelling over the buildings' debris that fell to the ground.

"Jack," Max held out a hand, helping him up. "Go."

With great effort, Jack got to his feet, reeling from the drug, from the euphoria that was traveling through him and beginning to fade ever so slightly. He gave a dazed nod and limped from the room, moving up and up, chasing the stairs that led to the top of the office building.

X

Jack was a step behind Max as he burst through the door to the rooftop, to where the helicopter pad was. For one split second, he opened his mouth to warn Max, but it was too late, B.B. had his gun aimed at Max and he was firing, sending two bullets into Max.

A silent scream tried to leave him, a denial springing to his lips. Max hunched over, sliding down to sit on a cement step as B.B.'s finger slammed the trigger again. The gun clicked several times but the bullet chamber was empty. B.B. looked down at the gun, naked fear on his face.

Jack brought his finger down and with deep pleasure, sent a bullet at B.B., guiding it into the shoulder of the man who was supposed to have cared for Max like a son at one time. B.B. stumbled back with a pained cry, his hand clasped to his shoulder protectively.

Max lurched forward, limping closer to B.B., the snow and wind slapping at all of them. Jack took a few hesitant steps, wary of B.B. and any other tricks he might pull. He kept his gun trained on him, itching to fire again until every last bullet was pumped into the man's body.

"You want my confession first, Max?" B.B called as he dropped his gun to the ground. "You want to know what I was thinking when I killed her?"

Max lifted his gun, his hand steady. He said nothing as he fired the bullet that drove itself through B.B.'s middle, blood spraying into the wind. B.B. dropped face down onto the helicopter pad, his body hitting with a thud.

Jack exhaled a breath, his eyes wide. Max looked up at the sky, a tear running down his cheek. He dropped his gun, unaware of the blood that ran down the front of his leather coat. He lowered his body down to his knees and stared out across the city, watching the sun peeking just above the horizon.

Jack moved without thought and knelt at Max's side, resting his head against Max's shoulder. He focused on the sound of his own breathing and of Max's, his exhausted body giving up on him. Max sighed slowly and softly, his bloodied fingers entwined with Jack's as the doorway filled with heavily armed officers and their guns pointed at their backs.

With a worn smile, Jack tilted his head to watch the sun rise. He thought only of home right then and how nice it would be to go back.

X


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Chasing Ghosts 16/17

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

It took being trapped in a hospital for several days for Jack to truly appreciate just how good a cup of coffee could really be. What the hospital served should never have been placed under the same label as coffee, he reflected as he held his mug possessively close.

With deep satisfaction, Jack blew on the steaming hot liquid before taking a sip. His eyes nearly closed. Perfect. Nothing could spoil that heavenly moment, nothing but the sound of someone sitting down across from him and the sound of a throat clearing pointedly.

Reluctantly, Jack opened his eyes all the way. Mona sat before him, dressed in her usual severe, all black wardrobe. Jack let some of the tension slip out of his spine as he nodded at her, sneaking another sip before placing the mug down on the table. She looked tired, Jack noted, but still dangerous.

"Hey…"

Mona cocked her head to the side in that way she had of studying someone intently.

"You're still in one piece, I see."

Jack quirked a grin at her and shrugged. "Mostly," he said. "They patched me up good."

She tapped her fingernails on the tabletop, the dark polish gleaming under the fluorescent lights. "I'm sure you can understand why I didn't go to the hospital."

"Yeah, I know. I didn't actually expect you to show."

Mona smiled but the smile was a thin one. "What with Bravura's investigations, it's best I stay out of his radar. He brought in the FBI to prove a point. Even if B.B. had lived, he'd of spent the rest of his life in prison."

"That miserable prick," Jack muttered. He gripped his coffee cup tightly. "I hope he's burnin' in hell."

"He's burning somewhere," she agreed.

A silence hung between them, an unspoken silence full of unasked questions.

"He's doing better now," Jack ran his finger along the handle of the mug. "They're releasing him tomorrow or so the doctor claims."

"Already…?"

"Let's just say B.B.'s almost as poor a shot than me," Jack gave her a fake smile. "He hit Max in the shoulder twice. I'm guessin' he was trying to disarm him. The one in his side was the worst, but he'll be alright. The bullet didn't hit anything vital, so it looks like Max has one hell of a guardian angel on his back."

Mona shook her head slowly. "He's very lucky."

"Yeah…" Jack took a large gulp of coffee, wincing as it burned the roof of his mouth. "Luck has nothing to do with it. He's uh…not really up for talking about everything that happened…"

"I can't say that surprises me."

"Yeah, me either." Jack and Mona exchanged somewhat bemused smiles. "He's one stubborn son of a bitch, but he clams up like nothing else."

Mona tapped her fingernails, one by one. It felt like they were dancing around a few topics and Jack didn't want to be the first to say it. He made a show out of drinking the last of his coffee and put the mug off to the side, watching the other people in the diner go about their mundane lives.

"I take it you've been to see him since they discharged you?" she finally asked.

Jack knew what she was really asking and it irritated him. "Of course," he said defensively. "Why wouldn't I?"

She gave a casual shrug with one shoulder, managing to still look aloof and dangerously beautiful while doing so. Jack gritted his teeth and remembered the simple fact that she had chosen to help them, when really, anyone else would have hightailed it the fuck out of there.

He knew he couldn't explain this…_whatever_ that he had with Max, and certainly not with someone of the likes of Mona Sax, Russian Assassin, extraordinaire. He wasn't even sure what he had, other than Max's intense interest. Being with a man like Max could be disarming, at best.

Jack tried to unclench the muscles that had tensed in his back. His side was tender still and he felt tremors every now and again, a lingering effect of the Valkyr drug, an effect that the doctors felt certain would trail off soon enough. Tensing wouldn't help him one bit.

"I care about him, Mona. This wasn't some…some thing where I was using him."

She studied him all the more intently and Jack clammed up. "I see."

Several minutes passed before Mona sighed. "Anyone can see he's very…focused on you."

And God, that made Jack uncomfortable. He hated the truth, but there it was. Max wasn't Bobby and that hurt. Had he been using Max for a substitute? Jack held the truth and felt sorrow over it. He knew that one truth deep down; he wasn't in love with Max, that he couldn't love him the same.

He blinked back the tears that wanted to rise. "He can be very intense," he murmured.

Mona regarded Jack with much sadness and understanding. "Are you staying in New York?"

Jack smiled sadly and shook his head. "Maybe…"

X

If anything, Jack was amused by how grumpy Max was while stuck in the hospital. Not that he had expected anything less. Max was not a patient man when it came to dealing with nurses, doctors and bed rest. As far as he was concerned, they were the enemies.

Jack walked in to find Max sitting by the window in a wheelchair, his forehead furrowed, clearly deeply in thought. He put his bag and guitar case off to the side and walked up behind Max, approaching him carefully.

"It stopped snowing."

"Yeah, I noticed," Jack sat on the ledge of the window and looked outside, the sun shining high above the hospital building. "I nearly got hit by more than a few shovels on the way here."

Max's lips curved up a bit, a hint of a smile there. "Dangerous weapons, those."

"Mhm," he murmured. He leaned against the cool window pane, looking Max over. He looked exhausted but at least his color was starting to come back. There were more lines engraved in his forehead, worry lines that wouldn't ease back when he was calm. Max seemed to have aged a bit since the first time Jack had caught him staring in the diner.

"The doctor came by earlier," Max said, avoiding Jack's gaze studiously, his eyes intent on watching the world outside. "He's gonna be sending me home tomorrow for sure."

"Great, that's awesome," Jack gave him a wide smile. He took one of Max's hands in his own, rubbing his knuckles. "Soon you'll be back at home, scarin' kids away with that scowl."

Max snorted quietly. "And then some. How're you feeling?"

He looked up at Jack finally and Jack winced inwardly. There was something there, a bleakness that made him hurt all the more. Jack swallowed, his throat parched. "Uh, fine," he said. "I'm fine. Still stiff an' all that, but I'm ok."

Max's fingers trembled in Jack's, a quiver that was barely there before it was gone. Max sighed, long and slow, before he nodded, dropping his gaze once more. "Good," he whispered. "That's good."

"That Bravura guy, he got the charges cleared, Mona was telling me," Jack tried. "The FBI was in on the investigation and for once, that's a good thing."

Max nodded silently. He rubbed his thumb over Jack's knuckles. "More than I hoped for, to be honest."

Jack rubbed back, grasping Max's hand and feeling the strength in his fingers, the roughness of his palm. He sighed to himself, thinking of what Mona had asked him. "Max…" he moistened his lips, shifting uncomfortably on the ledge.

"Do you remember what I said before I left you with Mona?" Max asked before Jack could finish his sentence.

Jack looked down at the tiled floor, his hair falling forward a bit. "Yeah, yeah I do."

"I meant it."

Jack hated the tears that welled up, hated how easily his emotions gave him away. He blinked slowly, trying to will the tears away. He tried to say something, anything, but the words didn't come.

"You need to go home, Jack." Max gripped his hand tighter. "I mean it. I know it's hurtin' you, but I don't want to be the reason that you don't go back."

"This Bobby of yours," Max's voice went on, digging painful but necessary gouges. "I can't be him, I'm not what you want, and you know that."

Jack closed his eyes, feeling his throat tighten as the words hit home. "I don't want you to be him," he protested, feeling the burn of the lie even as he spoke it and when he chanced a look at Max's face, he knew that Max wasn't fooled.

Max sat forward in his wheelchair, his eyes on Jack's, those dark eyes that he could almost imagine were Bobby's reading every emotion that betrayed him. "Maybe not on purpose, but deep down, you know the truth. You're not stupid, Jack, and I know you're hurting."

"If…if things had been different," Jack moved down, closer to Max to keep him from straining too far. He couldn't finish that, his heart beating far too hard and he thought maybe Max could hear it somehow.

"I know," Max whispered roughly. "I just want you to know somethin'. I haven't felt anything like I do with you since before M-…" he paused, steeling himself, "Since before Michelle died. I didn't want to love anyone; I didn't want to like anyone. But you…you were…just there one day, sitting there in that diner, looking like you were lost an' running from someone."

A tear slipped out and as it rolled down his cheek, Jack felt something give inside him. This hurt worse than he ever thought it would. Almost as much as the day he'd left.

Max reached his hand up, smoothing the tear away with a gentleness that took Jack's breath away and for that brief second, he could see the man Max had once been, three years previously. His face was still grave but Jack could see affection, deep affection in his eyes.

"I didn't think about it, I let my instincts bring me to you. And I don't regret it," Max cupped Jack's cheek, holding him close. "I'll never regret it. The only thing I regret is getting you involved with all this…"

Jack leaned into the touch of Max's palm on his face, craving the affection that came with it. "I'm not sorry I went with you. And I don't regret you at all," he smiled slowly and closed the distance between them, kissing Max as gently as he could manage, feeling his heart ache nonetheless.

Max let his eyes drift shut and went with the kiss, feeling the dampness of Jack's cheeks and the sting in his own eyes, kissing him and knowing that this would be the last time. Jack sighed into the kiss, ignoring the pangs of hurt.

When their lips drifted apart, Jack wrapped his arms around Max, hugging him carefully to avoid his bandaged body. He wanted to tell Max that he'd remember him, and that he'd never forget, that maybe he could have loved him, if his love and need for Bobby didn't run so deep.

Instead, he said nothing, holding all the words back behind his lips. Max shifted back, easing out of the hug. "Go back to him," he murmured.

"I think I'm ready to go home," Jack said in a whisper soft voice, his hands shaking.

Max looked up at him once more and a slow, true smile emerged on his lips. "Be safe, Jack."

Jack nodded and stood, feeling his feet carry him to the side where he'd left his belongings. "Bye Max," he said even as he lifted his guitar case and bag, feeling his chest hitch at the thought of leaving.

Max's smile didn't fade, though it seemed to dim a little. "Bye, Jack…"

He inhaled a deep breath and turned, leaving the hospital room and Max Payne behind.

X

Jack made it as far as the bus station before he sat down on a bench and held his head in his hands, grieving for the feelings he had for Max as much as for his fears of going home again. And if he was wrong, what then? What if Bobby had no use for him in his life?

He sighed and sat back, stuffing his hands in his jacket. He pulled out the key to Max's apartment and laughed, tears anew in his eyes. A souvenir then, he thought, besides his new scars. He tucked the key back into his deepest pocket to keep it safe.

Jack rifled through his duffle bag, having packed in a hurry. He pushed past his clothes, checking that his mother's rosary was still in its place. A flap of paper gave him a pause and he frowned, looking down at the folded over piece of paper. He lifted it out from under one of his sweaters, surprise sending his eyebrows skyward at the realization that it was an envelope.

His name was printed neatly across the middle, as neatly as the boxes in the storage container had been. Jack caught his breath and opened it, his fingers shaking ever so slightly. Inside the flap was a small wad of bills, held in place by a large paper clip.

A barely muted gasp of shock escaped him. Jack darted cautious eyes around him, ensuring he was alone before he counted the bills, unable to believe what he was seeing. He tucked the money back in quickly and pulled the note out that was folded under the money.

_…In case you needed this_…

He laughed a bit, recognizing Max's writing. Jack shook his head, smiling at nothing in particular. He folded everything back down and tucked some of the money deep into his pocket before going to buy a bus ticket from the surly lady behind the Plexiglas window.

Bus ticket securely in his coat, Jack eyed the rows of phone booths. He plucked out some change from his purchase and made his way to the first phone booth in the row. He dropped the money in and hesitated, his fingers hovering over the buttons. Jack pushed down, dialling the phone number that he couldn't ever forget.

The phone rang on and on and Jack felt a bead of sweat gather along his hairline. At the fifth ring, right as he was about to hang up, he heard the phone click on the other end. His stomach flopped, twisted and dropped abruptly when he heard the other line connect through.

"Hello?"

"Bobby…" Jack exhaled his name, a rush of everything all at once hitting him. "I-It's me."

X


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Chasing Ghosts 17

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Implied previous Bobby/Jack, Max/Jack

Summary: Not all those who wander are lost.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, and no profit made

Crossover between Four Brothers/Max Payne

X

The path to home seemed to be half speeding and half crawling to Jack, leaving him a mess of mixed emotions and far too much time to think. His stomach ached, both from a lack of proper food and from nerves. He rationed his cigarettes out, trying to pace them whenever the bus had a scheduled stop.

Jack rested his head on the window pane, watching the snow covered trees fly by as the bus moved from one state to the next. There wasn't nearly enough distance between New York and Detroit, not enough to satisfy him. And he couldn't completely make himself believe that there were no demon angels chasing after him.

He huffed out a sigh and let his eyes drift shut. It would be close to when Max would be getting home from work, he knew without needing to see the time. He could feel the eyes on him, the way Max watched him, regardless of whether Jack was aware of it or not. There was a flicker of pain in that. He missed Max, more than he'd expected to.

His throat bobbed and he forced such thoughts away. Going home was the right thing to do. It had to be.

At some point before everything had gone down, Max had tucked an envelope of money inside Jack's duffel bag, seemingly knowing that when Jack eventually left, he'd need the money to move on. The sentiment behind such practicality made his heart twinge in just the right way.

Going home to see Bobby scared the hell out of him and Jack couldn't quite force those thoughts away as easily, though God knows he tried. He shifted in his seat miserably, tucking his arms over his chest for comfort. He'd slipped the rosary around his neck as soon as he'd gotten on the bus and the beads rubbed against his skin, warming him from the inside out.

As he drifted closer to sleep, he mentally replayed the all too brief conversation he'd had when he'd gotten up the nerve to call home, his palms sweating the whole time. Calling home had felt like tiptoeing into a dream, the kind where a nightmare could spring on you at any second.

_"Hello?"_

"_Bobby….i-it's me."_

_There'd been a pause and for one horrifying second, Jack thought that Bobby would simply hang up. _

"_Jack…" was all he said then, but Jack heard a vast amount of words and emotions in that soft exhale of his name._

"_Yeah," Jack gripped the phone with white knuckles. "I…hi…"_

_He cursed himself for his lack of creativity but there were no clever words coming to him, no flash of insight to tell him what to say to someone like Bobby. He waited out the long pause that followed, each second a painful wait._

"_Where are you?"  
><em>

"_Um, New York," he mumbled._

_Bobby made a sound, close to a muted chuckle. "You do get around, don'tcha kid?"_

"_You could say that."_

"_You ok?"  
><em>

_Jack smiled and laughed a little. "Not really, but I think I will be."_

_Now there was real concern floating through the other line and Jack felt his stomach flop harder than before when Bobby spoke. _

"_What happened?" he demanded, "You're really alright?"_

"_I'm fine, Bobby," he said, wishing he could believe that._

"_Listen…"_

_Jack rubbed a hand over his shoulder, blinking away tears. "Bobby, I'm comin' back home," he blurted._

"…_Yeah?"_

"_Yeah," Jack whispered, "Bought a ticket a few minutes ago. My bus leaves in thirty minutes."_

_He could hear something, a quiet breath on Bobby's end. His throat tightened and he fought the urge to tell Bobby everything that had happened to him since the night he'd left him the year before. _

"_Jack…You really comin' home now?"_

"_Mhm."_

"_You need a ride from the station?"_

_At that, Jack's face flushed. He mumbled a yes, giving him the details as to when he'd reach Detroit. Bobby repeated them, writing them down, and Jack could picture the scribbly way he would write, the tight grip on the pen that Evelyn kept by the phone. _

"_I'll be there soon," he promised, his heart picking up speed. _

_There was a half second of silence before Bobby whispered, "Good."_

Jack rubbed a hand over his face, pushing at the messy hair that flopped over his forehead. Bobby had sounded…sad, tired even, but there'd been a hint of need in his voice and that was something new. Bobby held his own emotions to a high standard in not needing anyone, thank you very fucking much, Evelyn being the one exception.

He'd lied to Max, he knew. He wasn't completely sure about going home, only that he knew he needed to. If he'd pushed harder, Max would have let him stay, Jack was absolutely certain of that. Max was lonely but he wouldn't play second fiddle to Jack's feelings for Bobby.

Maybe if he'd been more convincing of his affection for Max…if he'd been able to just fucking let go of how much he wanted Bobby to want him the same way…if, if, if…

He clenched his teeth and pushed harder at all his rambling, scrambled thoughts even as the bus brought him further and further away from Max, and closer to Bobby, his body tensing all the tighter with nerves.

X

When the bus pulled into the station, Jack sat in his seat, his knee bobbing furiously. He could hardly sit still, not when he was moments away from de-boarding the bus, collecting his meagre possessions and walking to the parking area where Bobby would be waiting.

He felt like he was going to pass out, hyperventilate until he was kneeling on the floor of the bus. The people around him were chatting, some already gathering their carry on belongings, eager to get off the bus and be on their way, wherever they were headed.

Jack leaned forward, resting his head on his knees and gripping them, breathing shallowly. I will not pass out, I will not pass out, he chanted silently, forcing his breathing to even out. He could do this, sure he could. Other people were already about to leave their seats and step off the bus.

"You goin' on or leaving?" the bus driver tapped Jack on the shoulder after everyone else had gotten off, blinking in surprise when Jack flinched away from him sharply.

"S-Sorry!" Jack felt his face warm with embarrassment. "I'm goin'."

He stood up, his legs propelling him forward, to the door of the bus and down the three steps that would bring him to the concrete sidewalk where the suitcases and bags were waiting. Jack's heart thumped in his chest and he gathered his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He grasped his guitar case in one hand, letting his body guide him through the terminal and out into the parking lot, one slow step after the other.

I can do this…

He stopped short at the sight of Bobby's car waiting in the pickup lane, the same car as always, and…and Bobby leaning against the door, his arms at his sides, a pensive frown marring his face until he saw Jack standing stock still on the sidewalk.

"B-Bobby," Jack stuttered out and like a tidal wave, he felt the same rush of love, need and fear slam him at once, his knees weak.

The frown slipped off Bobby's face and he smiled, moving away from the car door. "Jack…"

Before he knew it, he'd closed the distance between them and felt Bobby's strong arms wrap around him, pulling him in tight and oh God, he smelled exactly like Jack remembered, smoke and spice and something just so…_Bobby_, that he felt his eyes water.

He burrowed his head down into Bobby's neck, feeling the slight scrape of facial hair against his cheek, his guitar case slipping to the ground as he brought both his arms around Bobby, his chest hitching with raspy breaths. Jack closed his eyes, fighting the urge to let his tears fall.

"You miss me that much, Jackie?" Bobby rumbled, one hand tangling up into Jack's hair the way it always did.

Jack laughed and pressed his face in closer, trying to absorb the scent he'd craved for so long. "Always," he whispered.

X

The drive home was somewhat awkward but nothing unbearable. Jack had let go of Bobby reluctantly and as he'd sat in the passenger seat, he felt a hysterical giggle try to well up. It was like stepping into the past, nothing had changed in the car, aside from the unscented air freshener tucked under the glove compartment.

Jack settled back into the worn seat, his eyes half open as Bobby got in after putting Jack's duffel bag and guitar case into the backseat. He pulled at his scarf, shivering a little, partly from the chilly air and partly from nerves. Bobby got in as well, the door slamming shut behind him.

He looked at Jack intently, though what he was looking for, Jack wasn't sure. After a long moment, he blinked and started the car, the radio crackling to life. Jack smiled to hear his favourite station come on, one that Bobby couldn't stand. His knee bobbed a little as Bobby drove and Jack felt the bittersweet memories of Max fade the tiniest bit.

Bobby said nothing on the drive back to the house, preferring to do his interrogating indoors, Jack knew. He lit a cigarette and cranked the window open, letting the smoke escape through it. He felt, rather than saw, Bobby watching him smoke out of the corner of his eye, watching his mouth.

Jack's skin prickled and he shivered again, this one from pure nerves. Max had watched him much the same, seemingly enjoying the process he went through while smoking. He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, blowing a slim plume of smoke through the window.

Without saying a word, he rolled the window back up, the familiar neighbourhood fast approaching. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of Evelyn's house. No remnants of the gun fight from the year before were left. They had worked together afterwards to fix up the broken windows and bullet pocked walls.

Well, Jack hadn't done much as he'd recovered, he admitted. But he'd been allowed to work on indoors things while Bobby kept a vigilant eye out for him the whole time. Jack stared up at the house, a sad smile on his face. He could almost see Evelyn sitting in the glassed in front porch, knitting one of her blankets while enjoying the outdoors as she had often done when it was warm enough.

"You stayed here all this time?"

Bobby nodded, his gaze following Jack's. He smiled wistfully and Jack imagined he could see the same image of Evelyn that he saw. "Yeah…someone had to. Jerry's got his place an' Angel's in and out, so I decided to stay put awhile."

Jack nodded and unbuckled his seatbelt, swallowing over the lump in his throat. He'd missed his brothers. "Guess I didn't think about all that."

He slipped out of the car, carrying his things inside after Bobby unlocked the door. Nothing had changed. He felt a shockwave of nostalgia hit him and his stride faltered. Even now, a year after Evelyn's death, her presence was still there, in every inch of the house. A sense of calm spread over him and he discovered he was fast losing his battle over his tears.

"Jack…" Bobby stood at his side and Jack could hear the hesitation in his voice.

Where to start? He wondered that as he looked back at Bobby. His lips tried to smile. "Thanks for the ride," he said, feeling stupid even as he said it.

"Yeah," Bobby yanked at his coat, his eyes darker than Jack expected. "You really think I'd make you walk or bus it out here?"

Ah, there was the anger Jack knew so well, that simmering anger under everything else.

"N-No," he mumbled and unwound his scarf, letting it hang loosely on his neck. "I just…I wasn't sure…"

"You left, Jack. I didn't."

"This time," Jack shot back defiantly. "How many times did you leave home? And me?"

There was a flinch that Bobby couldn't disguise. "I left for work. You ran."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Jack put his bag and guitar case down, his nerves jumping all over. He wanted to shove at Bobby, to pull him in close and kiss him, to feel Bobby's strength.

"You really wanna do this ten seconds after you get home?"

"Maybe I do." Jack crossed his arms, trying to forget how it felt to have Bobby hold him.

Bobby glared back at him and stepped forward, crowding Jack back against the staircase, backed him up until there was nowhere else to go. Jack swallowed, his stomach churning excitedly. He felt some shame in that but the feeling was lost as Bobby reached for him, one hand sliding into his hair and gripping him, forcing him to hold still.

Jack forgot to breathe when Bobby brought him down a bit, his mouth claiming Jack's with a flash of heat, the scrape of his facial hair rubbing against Jack's cheeks. He closed his eyes, drowning eagerly in the kiss, in the spark of heat that raced through his body and made his legs weak. Kissing Bobby had always set his nerves on fire.

He tried to breathe, tried to force Bobby back from him but he gave up trying at the feeling of Bobby pressing against him, trapping him in place against the stair railing, his lips capturing Jack's until his head fairly spun, until he was dizzy and melting back against him.

When he felt he might faint from not breathing, Bobby's lips passed along his jaw to his neck, where he nipped the skin under his ear. Jack nearly purred, beyond embarrassment at how well Bobby knew his body.

"Still need to yell?" he whispered tauntingly, one hand gripping Jack's hip, his fingers digging in slightly.

"N-No…" Jack gasped out, his face whitening at the flare of pain that spread from his tender side.

"Jack…" Bobby took a half step back, frowning. "The hell…" He tugged at Jack's coat, pulling it back and moving his sweater up, pure fury in his eyes when he saw the still healing scar tissue. "The fuck is this?" he demanded.

"It's nothin'," Jack lied automatically but that wasn't any help.

"Like fuck it's nothing! What happened? Someone do that to you?"

Jack tried to edge away from Bobby. He tugged at his sweater, trying to cover his wound. He could only pray that Bobby wouldn't discover what was left of his bruises and cuts from his attack. "It's…its nothing, I uh, I cut myself, accident, that's all."

"You think I was born yesterday?" Bobby looked murderously angry and that was never a good sign. "Who the fuck hurt you, Jack?"

Jack bit his lip, fear snaking through him and coiling alongside his desire for Bobby to touch him. "Bobby, it's, it's complicated, ok? The guy that did it, he's dead now. It was this…it's a long story."

Bobby placed his hand over the wound, as if he was trying to heal it somehow, worry warring with his anger and protective instincts. "Oh you better believe you're gonna tell me everythin', sweetheart," he growled, "Every last detail."

"I will," Jack murmured. "I just…I needed to come back home, to see you."

Bobby looked up and blinked. He studied Jack's eyes, searching for any hint of an attempt to lie. "Why now?"

Jack moved his hands to Bobby's sides. He could feel the heat coming off Bobby and he wanted to bury himself in his arms and pretend that nothing bad had happened and that he was nowhere safer than when Bobby held him close.

"Because I…" he trailed off and felt that small pain when he thought of Max. "Because someone helped me remember why I left in the first place, and because I needed to know if you'd ever change your mind."

Now it was Bobby who fell silent. He moved his fingers up a bit higher, stroking over Jack's skin. He opened his mouth to speak, changed his mind and leaned in, kissing Jack again. His kiss was gentler than before and Jack nearly sighed into it, his resistance crumbling under the sweet kiss.

"You want me to admit I was wrong?" Bobby asked when the kiss ended. "That what you want from me?"

"It's not about bein' right or wrong, Bobby. It's…look, you said you couldn't give me what I wanted, and you refused to even try. And…and that's not good enough for me anymore."

Bobby rested his head to Jack's shoulder, his lips pressing a kiss to Jack's neck. "I don't like bein' wrong," he admitted, though it cost him a sliver of pride to do so. "I want you, Jack. This year was…it was fuckin' horrible without you. I figured if I kept you away, arm's length, you'd be better off. Have a chance to find someone…better."

Jack simply sighed and kissed him, thinking that Evelyn had been right, even if she was only a figment of his dream. "You dumbass," he said affectionately. "I don't want anyone else but you, Bobby. You know that. I only wanted you, all this time, that's all I really wanted."

"Don't want you regrettin' that down the road," Bobby murmured and Jack was struck by the similarity to Max's words before they'd gone to bed together.

"I'm not going to, so long as you don't keep pushin' me away."

Bobby pressed against him, his hands moving to grip Jack and pull him in close. "Love you," he whispered. "Love you like nothin' else, Jackie."

God, but it felt heavenly to hear those words. Jack smiled and reassured Bobby that he loved him too. How could he not?

Through a blur of steps, Jack found himself in his old bedroom, Bobby holding him tightly, their clothes disappearing between kisses that only grew more heated, Bobby possessing him inside and out. He gave in to Bobby, letting him love him the best way he knew how and after they'd fallen in a tangle of limbs and twisted sheets to the bed, Jack rested his head on Bobby's chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating steadily.

He ran his fingers over the inked beads, counting them from memory, one by one and whispering a prayer under his breath. Bobby kept his hand on Jack's head, curling his fingers in his hair, smoothing out the messy strands with light motions. It was oddly soothing and Jack let his eyes drift shut, lost in the feeling of having returned home, in the feeling of being held by the one person he needed most and of feeling the complicated love that they had for each other.

Jack smiled sleepily. He was home.

X

The End

Thank you to everyone who read or liked or reviewed my story!


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